Like a Sheep to a Shepherd
by ebi pers
Summary: Lourdes just wanted to be brave, to prove herself to everyone. But she ended up in need of rescue instead. Luckily Hal's there to save her. And lucky for Hal she's there for him, too. Hal/Lourdes Takes place in the 3 months between seasons 1 and 2. AU-ish. Occasional bad words. Now complete! Sequel posted!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I watched the season premiere on my DVR and I think this may be my new favorite show (stupid FOX cancelling Terra Nova and stuff). I was a follower last season and now I'M A BELIEVER! (Did that sound as corny as I think it did?) Anyway, I'm over caffeinated right now and my head just formed a bazillion ideas for a Hal/Lourdes story. Yes, that's right, I ship Hal and Lourdes. There's just so much potential and their fleeting interactions have way more chemistry than Hal and Karen ever did. (Just so you know, I hate Karen a lot so I'm sorry if you Karen-lovers are offended). Anyway, I'm taking the advice of my reviewers and I'm gonna go for it. Wish me luck. And review, definitely do that. I have to know if you people think I belong in the **_**Falling Skies **_**forums or if I should just go back to ****trolling**** WRITING FOR the dearly-beloved (but sadly departed) **_**Terra Nova**_**. **

**PS: This is set in the three months between Tom's departure and his return. There wasn't any real interaction between Hal and Lourdes yet BUT I'm of the opinion that with everything else going on they may have just…been occupied with other things. Survival first, romance second and such. Also, I'm going to just ignore the web-comic and that mechanic guy with the dreadlocks who's SUPPOSED to be Lourdes' love interest. It just bothers me. Hopefully they'll kill him off in some heroic number that shatters poor Lourdes into a million pieces, forcing her to crawl into Hal's arms for comfort and…you know what I'm just gonna shut up now. So here goes…**

* * *

Pain. It wasn't a new sensation for Lourdes, but still unfamiliar because she wasn't in pain _before_…before what? Slowly, she sat up, gingerly rubbing the back of her head because it throbbed. There was a good-sized bruise forming there, the bump sore and tender. She winced, withdrawing her dirty hand, covered in dust, debris, and…_blood!_ Immediately, her mind raced. Where was the blood coming from? Was it her own? And if it wasn't, whose was it? And where _was _she? What was this ringing in her ear? Why couldn't she remember…

And then it all snapped into focus. The ringing stopped, the throbbing stopped, it seemed for a moment that the _world _stopped and suddenly she could remember. She had ventured out of the safety of the camp when Anne had made an offhand remark about their IV fluids and antibiotic stash running low, not to mention the lack of ibuprofen that could cure the most simple of aches. That's what had made her decide to sneak off on one of those motorcycles—the ones she had no clue how to ride. And that's how she ended up like this now, scrape and bruised, with a badly damaged Yamaha on its side beside her. It was daylight, which was disturbing because when she'd left it was still night. Had she been out for that long? And what if it was more than one day? She spoke a silent prayer of thanks that the skitters or the mechs hadn't discovered her lying out here or she would have been utterly defenseless.

Slowly, rising to her feet, she surveyed her surroundings. She wasn't exactly familiar with this area, but she estimated she hadn't gone more than twenty miles outside the camp's radius. But with everyone occupied and so few fighters to spare, she doubted anyone was looking for her. They'd probably written her off as dead by now, with only Anne and possibly a few others left wondering where she'd disappeared to.

She felt a sting in her chest. Lourdes wasn't the definition of outgoing, not by a long shot. She was timid, naïve, sheltered. What had possessed her to come out here and try to scrounge up medical supplies from the remains of drugs stores or hospitals? Why had she left the safety of the camp, where she could have rendered medical aid, in order to face the potential of being captured and harnessed or even killed?

The answer was simple. Hal Mason. Hal Mason, with those deep-set, hazel eyes that could be green, or blue, or grey seemingly at will. Hal Mason with his trim but powerful build and a gun slung across his torso. Hal Mason, with those rugged, devastatingly handsome features he seemed to have inherited from his father. Hal Mason, who despite being two years her junior was still so much more mature than her, so much _braver_. Hal Mason, who she longed for and pined after every day and night but would never be able to attain.

She had done it because it's what Hal Mason would have done and she had always wanted to be like him. Hal was confident and powerful and courageous. He didn't shrink into the ground when things looked bad. He didn't hide or cower like she did. And while she clung to religion and the Bible to get her through, Hal clung to his rifle in one hand and a spare clip in his other and he made things happen. He wasn't afraid. And she'd done it to prove to him, to herself, and to everyone around her that she wasn't afraid either.

And look where it got her. She took a teetering step forward and fell, and in that moment she realized that her leg was injured, too. She couldn't see the damage through the leg of her jeans and in truth she didn't want to. She'd look later but right now the sight of her own injury would just make her feel weaker, hinder any chance she had of making it back to camp alive. Back to Anne alive. Back to _Hal _alive.

But what was the use? Her leg was beat up. She couldn't walk. How would she get back? Crawling? Dragging herself twenty miles in God-only-knows what direction? The feeling settled on her, thick and terrifying. She was going to die here, on this deserted, desolate fragment of road, painfully alone. It was funny how in accepting death, she could only see Hal. See his brilliant, radiant smile that rarely made an appearance. See the ferocity in his eyes when he encountered or even mentioned a skitter. Hal Mason was a fighter and a protector, and knowing he was around made her feel safe despite the fact he barely acknowledged her, hardly even knew she existed. And without him there she felt vulnerable and scared now.

A tear fell from her eye, hit the gravel beside her as she lay helplessly on her back, looking up at the sky. The words were leaving her lips before they even registered. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. .."

But her heart had left the prayer, returned to Hal. He didn't have a rod or staff, but rather a gun and an army knife. But the effect was the same: she was comforted by the presence.

_No. _The thought struck her quickly. _No, no, no, no, no! _"No!" she cried out to the sky, uncaring whether or not the skitters heard her. Let them come. "No, Lourdes! You are _not _going to die out here!" She rolled over, determination and pain seizing her at once. She set her jaw, bit her lip, swiftly rose to her feet once more, and hobbled a few steps before falling over in agony.

Sharp sobs overtook her as tears spilled from her eyes. She was gripping her leg, lying on her side in a near fetal-position. "No!" she screamed, a wet, teary cry . "No, dammit!" The gravity of the situation hit her. She never swore, never liked to. And dammit, though hardly a swear word compared to others, was not something she said. But the pain, the anger, the frustration at being so helpless and scared made her scream it again. "Dammit!" It couldn't end this way. She didn't want it to end this way. But it hurt so much and she was just too scared to go on, too scared to meet a skitter face to face and die at its hands. If she was going to go, she would prefer it to be peaceful. A final token of just how cowardly she truly was. She cursed herself mentally.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…" Her lips moved slowly, the words deliberate as the pain dulled to a steady, agonizing throbbing in her swollen leg. She fingered the Rosary beads around her neck. "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures." Thoughts started flowing to her now. Her grandparents' home, just outside Boston. The rolling hills and the shady oaks and maples that turned such beautiful shades in the autumn. "He restoreth my soul, He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake." She'd been called to help the civilians of the 2nd Mass. through healing them, using what little pre-med talent she had to help. But now, her time helping was done. God was calling her home and though it was painful to leave so many friends behind she supposed Heaven was better than here. It was such a cliché to say her life was flashing before her eyes, but the visions of everything she'd known and loved came and left before she could will them away.

"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for Thou art with me." But it wasn't true. The beads were comforting, God's presence with her almost tangible, but she was so deathly afraid of _dying_. She was scared as _hell_ and she whimpered even as she uttered the sentence. "Thy rod…and Thy staff…they comfort me." She wished Hal were there to hold her, to tell her not to worry like he had the night she'd brought him food and Karen had mocked her, not knowing she could hear, not knowing that she'd continued to force a smile. "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…" The thought of her being unafraid in the presence of the skitters was comfortingly unrealistic. But it was a nice thought to have before dying, she supposed. "Thou annointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over." She paused to consider the good fortune she'd had in assisting 2nd Mass. all of these months. She'd gained friends, experiences. She'd lived a short but genuinely fulfilling life.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the House of the Lord forever. Amen." She spoke the last bit with finality, determined to have the prayer be her dying words. It was an appeal for mercy, leniency from God. It was a prayer of praise to Him, thanking Him for all that he'd provided for her in her short life. It was, in short, a final preparation before leaving Earth behind for better or for worse. And with these thoughts to comfort her, Lourdes allowed herself to fall asleep and wait for death to claim her.

* * *

It was dark. That was the first thing she was aware of and for a brief moment she thought she really was dead. But then she felt the pain in her leg, the gravel, rough and abrasive against her cheek, the ground vibrating. Groggily, she rubbed her leg and glanced around, taking in the crumbling buildings and shelled-out cars. _Wait. The ground was vibrating. Which meant…_ "Someone's coming!" She breathed the words to herself, if only to hear her own voice and prove to herself she was still alive. Disappointment seized her as she realized that, in all likelihood, her end would come at the hands of a skitter. Or tentacles, as the case may be. She forced herself to roll onto her stomach, wincing. In the distance, she could see a single, circular light moving toward her.

Hope surged through her. The beamer's lights were blue, these were yellow. These were motorcycle headlights! This was a person! Dismay seized her yet again when she realized the likelihood of the rider being friendly was slim to none. In all likelihood, she'd be robbed and murdered within the next few minutes. With a shuddering breath, she hunkered down and waited, squeezing her eyes shut and not daring to look at her own fate.

The motorcycle drew up close to her, displacing a few rocks in the road. She heard the loud hum cut out. The rider had killed the engine, and in a few seconds he'd kill her too. She heard the crunching footsteps come closer, felt the presence of someone leaning over her. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter but something wasn't right here. This person that was above her was somehow familiar to her senses and she realized it was his _smell_. A combination of musky cologne, a bit of aftershave, sweat, and a lot of grime. It was unmistakably the scent of _Hal_. But how could it be?

She felt the rider lean close to her ear, felt a warm blast of air as "Lourdes" was whispered urgently. She didn't need any further confirmation. Her heart soared because Hal was right there with her now and she began to wonder again if this was really happening or if she had died or if she was hallucinating. Nonetheless, her eyes snapped open and there he was, face streaked with dirt, hair disheveled, gun slung across his chest, looking concerned, eyes searching.

"Hal?" she questioned, as if to ascertain his existence.

"Lourdes! Oh my God, are you okay?" he asked urgently, looking her up and down, then looking over his shoulder. "It's not safe here. There are mechs closing in, we gotta get you back to camp. Here," he offered her a hand.

"Hal!" the grin spread further across her face. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Yeah, it's nice to see you too but can we talk on the way? We _really _need to get you out of here, give me your hand."

It was nice while it lasted. Sadly, she shook her head. "No, Hal. I can't."

He was stunned. "What do you mean you can't? You can't just stay here! The mechs will be here any minute."

"I can't stand," she said. "My leg's fractured or broken…I can't tell. But I'll only slow you down. Just go." It was hard for her to say it, especially with the promise of being killed by a mech, but she would never forgive herself if she got Hal killed at her expense.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'll help you. Come on!" There was an urgent pleading in his tone. "Lourdes!" he was shouting now. The pounding of mech footsteps could be heard, getting closer. Everything was shaking, including her.

"I can't…Hal…" she hissed, tears blurring her vision. "Go."

Hal shook his head in exasperation, rubbing his temple and looking to his right as the mechs closed in. "This is freaking ridiculous, I'm not leaving you Lourdes!" Suddenly, she felt his strong, firm arms wrapping around her torso, lifting her off the ground. "Can you sit on a bike?" he asked, his voice close to her ear.

"I…I think so…" she murmured, still stunned at the sensation of Hal Mason holding her.

"Good," he said, setting her down gently on the back of his motorcycle, using the weight of his own body to stabilize it until he sat down himself. Looking back, Lourdes could see the mechs' searchlights now. They were coming straight for them.

"Shit," Hal cursed. "That's the only way back to camp."

"What do we do?" Lourdes asked fearfully.

"Hang on," he ordered, and as soon as her grip tightened around his waist in a way that made her blush, Hal gunned the bike.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Not sure, but I'll let you know when we get there!"

He weaved dangerously around bombed out cars and buildings, shots from the mechs ricocheting around them. Though the robots had good range, the motorcycle had speed in its favor, easily distancing itself from the death machines. Lourdes wrapped her arms tighter around Hal's waist, partially afraid of falling off and partially afraid that if she loosened her grip, he'd disappear. Using aerodynamics to justify her actions, she allowed herself to settle her cheek against his back and with the wind whipping through her dark hair, the sensation of speed, and the feeling of security Hal afforded her just by being there, she felt invigorated and renewed.

* * *

**A/N: So there's chapter one. What do you think? Do I have the characterization down? What needs work? Improvements? Suggestions? Let me know in a review! It's like 2:30 AM so I'm posting this and going to bed. Next chapter will be more Hal-centric since this chapter was Lourdes-centric. It'll pretty much work itself out like that if I decide to continue. And what makes me decide to continue? FEEDBACK! I seriously want to know what you think. So thanks for reading, guys, and hopefully I'll be in contact soon via updates! Peace.**

**PS: For anyone unfamiliar with the prayer Lourdes was saying, it's Psalm 23, also dubbed the 'Shepherd's Psalm' which is where the title of this fic comes from. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok guys! I'm back and I'm pleased with the warm welcoming and positive reactions that I've received so far. Thanks to everyone for being so receptive as I jump into a new fan forum. And like I said, once my writer's block clears on my **_**Terra Nova **_**stuff I'll be back to writing that too. This chapter is Hal-centric and we'll get to see exactly why he came after Lourdes. Please review!**

**PS: I really dislike the mechanic guy. He's throwing off the potential for my story to mirror canon plotlines. I'm not happy. And the Hal/Maggie thing? It's interesting, but c'mon! She's like four or five years older than him **_**and **_**she's hinting that she wants to have _sex _with him. Can anyone spell creepy? Though I do like Maggie so I'll write her a free pass for now…**

* * *

He did his best to stay focused on the road ahead of the motorcycle, not on the mechs that were no doubt closing in from behind somewhere, not on the mounting fear that he had _no _idea where they were headed, just that he had to keep himself and Lourdes safe and hidden.

He felt her tighten her grip around him and hazarded a glance back to ensure she wasn't on the verge of falling off the bike. She looked wary, but a bit calmer now that they were away from the immediate vicinity of the robotic killers. Hal's mind raced, desperately trying to reconstruct where he was and how to get back to camp in his head. The results weren't comforting. They were pinned down, the mechs having cut off the only route back.

He'd passed the robots on his way in, spotting them off in the distance but closing in steadily. Something had told him to keep going though, that he wouldn't regret it. His instructions had been simple: to find Lourdes and bring her back to camp. Well, he'd done half of his assignment.

Up ahead, in the sky, a beamer appeared, its blue lights scanning the ground, no doubt searching for them. Thinking fast, he put the headlight out and felt Lourdes tremble behind him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as loudly as he dared. He felt her nod against his back. "Hang on!" he advised. And then he gunned the bike and veered off the roadway at the first street he spotted, a dusty, dirt road that lead to God-only-knew-where. But one thing was for sure: it was safer than staying on the main road, just waiting to be found by the patrols.

"What's going on?" Lourdes suddenly asked.

"Shh!" he hushed her, stopping the bike and cutting the engine off as the beamer flew overhead. "Get down!" he gently guided her down into the grass and weeds at the roadside, shielding her beneath him. The searchlight swept over the street once, twice, three times. The ship was hovering directly over the motorcycle. He heard a faint whirring noise, like something revving up. "Shit!" he breathed. "Lourdes, we gotta move."

"Hal, I can't!"

"Come on!" he scooped her up bridal style and took off running. Seconds later, a loud explosion rang out and he knew there was no going back. The motorcycle was gone. Somehow, they'd either spotted them before he had a chance to ditch it or…_they had known it had been used recently and targeted it specifically._

His first instinct was to find a hiding place, a shelter of some sort or at least some tall grass where they'd be hidden from the searchlights. The dirt road appeared to have been part of a farm at one point, with open fields for miles around. Thankfully, they were overgrown and were able to afford the two shelter from any immediate threats. When he estimated they'd been running for a half hour, he slowed down, glancing up to make sure that nothing had tailed them. The sky was empty. He set Lourdes down in a sitting position, dropping down beside her to catch his breath.

"What do we do now?" she asked, voice laced with panic. She looked terrified as she glanced from side to side.

"We have to find shelter, someplace to lay low and plan out our next move," he said simply, trying to downplay the severity of the situation for her benefit as well as his own.

"Where are we?"

"I wish I knew. How's your leg?" he switched topics, though her injury was a pressing concern.

Lourdes nodded toward her pant leg, the denim material torn up but the injury obstructed from view. "It still throbs but…I don't know. I have to see it."

"Hang on," he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a switchblade. Her eyes widened. "Just relax and hold still," he commanded.

"Hal, what are you…?"

"Relax," he soothed. "Do you trust me?"

Lourdes nodded.

"Then just hold still." He flicked the blade out and gingerly cut away at her jean leg, removing the piece that covered her injured leg.

She glanced at the injury. Her shin was a dark shade of purple, swollen from the knee down to the ankle. She felt the area gingerly, concluded that the bone was still intact. "Probably just a fracture," she said, trying to downplay it.

"I had one of those once," Hal grimaced. "Not fun."

Lourdes' head tilted curiously in his direction. "How'd you get it?"

He smirked, obviously embarrassed to recount the story. "We were at lacrosse practice…some of the guys were goofing around, swinging their sticks and I took a hit straight in the shin. Hard."

She laughed despite herself. "That must've hurt."

"Well it didn't feel good," he agreed, laughing himself. "We should probably find something to set that with." He looked to her leg.

"I don't see anything we could use…" She glanced about, but tall weeds and grass were the only things visible for miles.

With one last look to the sky, Hal finally rose to a squatting position. "We'd best find some shelter for the night. Those beamers are still out there looking for us."

She made a move to rise but he stopped her. "I'm no expert, but I don't think it's such a good idea for you to start walking yet," he said.

"I'm fine," she assured, rising unsteadily to her feet. He caught her as she started to fall.

"I can see that," he noted with a grin before scooping her up the way he had on their run from the beamer. They walked for what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than thirty minutes, before finally reaching an old farmhouse, standing solitary and silent in the midst of the fields.

"It's as good a place as any," he said as they cautiously crept up the front steps. "I don't think the skitters will expect us to hide out in here. It looks abandoned."

The house was a faded shade of yellow, its green shutters sagging and dangling. The wrap-around porch was screened in, the storm door long since torn off its hinges. In the porch area, an old glider rocked gently in the breeze. If it weren't for the devastation around them, the setting would have been peaceful and quaint. Hal set her down on the glider. "Wait here, I'm gonna go find a way inside. Shout if you need me." She nodded her consent and he disappeared around the back of the house.

He wasn't surprised that the structure was still standing. After all, the attacks had been focused on the major cities, on dealing as many casualties as possible. But whoever had occupied this farmhouse had long since left, leaving behind the dilapidated residence. Hal noted that the building seemed secure, a curse in the sense that it would be difficult to find a way in, a blessing in the sense that once they found one, they'd be safe. Finally, he found what he was looking for. On the second floor of the home, a window air-conditioner was visible, the box-like, metallic object protruding from the house. Without a second thought, he seized hold of the drainpipe, shimmying his way up it until he could reach the roof of the porch. Using that as a catwalk, he half-crept, half-crawled to the point beneath the window he was targeting.

With both hands, he seized the air-conditioning unit and pulled with all his might, nearly falling over when the rusted object came free of its rotted seal. But with the unit moved, he could crawl in through the upper floor window, which he did, replacing the air conditioner after him.

The house smelled musty and unlived in. He found himself in what was obviously supposed to be a child's room. The faded shade of blue on the walls, the clouds that were so painstakingly painted onto the ceiling, the racecar border that ran around the walls and matched the bedspread on the twin-sized mattress—it reminded him of Matt's room in their old house, the one they'd lived in just before this whole mess started. For a minute, he was paralyzed, struck with a sensation of nostalgia and the feeling that he was intruding on someone else's deeply personal life. But the thought of Lourdes still waiting for him on the porch, helpless, drove him to leave the room and pick his way carefully down the creaky steps. The living room looked to be a decent size, with a fireplace and some over-stuffed couches. In terms of shelter, this was far cozier than anything he would have dared to hope for. He opened the door of the house, stepping out onto the screened in porch where Lourdes was warily waiting for him.

"You alright?" he asked. She nodded and he lifted her into the house, setting her down on one of the over-stuffed sofas. "There's no one here," he told her. "I'm gonna go check the house for any supplies." She nodded and he left her again.

A brief search of the kitchen turned up some basic cooking utensils and a few knives that would come in handy if they needed to defend themselves. The stove was electric, which meant there was no hope of using it for anything. The refrigerator was full of perishables, long since expired, but in the cupboards he found some crackers and other non-perishable snack foods, as well as a box of matches. The basement turned out to be the real treasure of the home, full of canned goods and sealed bottles of water, not to mention clean clothes and cosmetic products like soap and toothpaste, all purchased and stockpiled down there with the assumption that the family would eventually use them. The upstairs linen closet turned up some medical supplies but little else.

The garage provided another pleasant surprise. Two full gas cans sat in the corner by the recycling pile, full of old newspapers. If he could find a motorcycle or even a tractor or some old pickup on the grounds, he could get them out.

When Hal returned to the living room, he found that Lourdes had dropped off to sleep, no doubt exhausted after everything she'd been through. He carried her gently up the stairs and lay her down gently in the child's room. He was about to shut the door when he heard her voice peep out. "Hal?"

He opened the door wider and returned to her. "Yeah?"

"Don't leave," she whispered hoarsely. "I...I don't want to be alone."

He paused, hesitating, then nodded slowly. "I won't." He held the frightened girl's hand, running a calloused thumb across her knuckles until she fell back asleep. She was quite pretty in her sleep, appearing serene and innocent.

_What the hell, man? Snap out of it! _This was no time to consider how beautiful Lourdes looked in her sleep. He was told to find her and bring her back and that's what he intended to do. And then he was going to find Karen and bring her back too. _But you can't deny that you think she's beautiful. Isn't that why you came after her in the first place? _No. He'd come after her because that's what Weaver told him to do, and because Anne was so shaken by her disappearance, and because that's what his father would have done. He'd come after her because he'd already let one girl get taken by the skitters and dammit he wouldn't let another one get harnessed too. He came after her because people needed her help. Anne was the only trained medical professional left and Lourdes' experience in pre-med was a tremendous asset to the 2nd Mass. He'd come after her for practical reasons, for the benefit of the group as a whole, and because it was the right thing for a decent human being to do. Not because he found her beautiful. _Then why the hell are you even here? Why are you taking care of her?_

Because her leg was injured. She couldn't walk. She was helpless. He would have taken her straight back to camp if the mechs hadn't cut him off and forced him to hole up in this farmhouse. What else could he have done? And as soon as her leg healed well enough for her to walk or he found a new means of transportation, he'd take her back and this whole thing would be over. Plain and simple. _But you can't deny that she's beautiful. _And that much was true. Lourdes was beautiful. Hal ended up falling asleep in the room that night, slumped against the bedpost with one hand still enclosed around hers, the other resting atop his gun. _First thing in the morning, I'm finding a way out of here..._

* * *

**A/N: Some conflicting feelings for Hal? I'd say so…It always confused me why he wouldn't go for Lourdes. Maybe it's a personal thing, but I think the actress who plays Karen is a bit creepy looking, in a spaced-out sort of way. Or maybe it was just the harness scene in the season premiere. Either way, she reminded me of Isabelle Fuhrman in **_**Orphan.**_** "There's something wrong with Esther…I mean Karen…" Anyway, again I'd like to thank you guys for the lovely reviews. Hal/Lourdes stories are my absolute favorite in this fanfiction section and I strongly encourage all you sailors on the Hal/Lourdes ship to write your own stuff. Keep the reviews coming, guys, and I'll keep churning out more so long as there's still interest. Any way, I'm aware it isn't the greatest, but it's 1:30 AM and I'm trying to update before you all die of suspense! So please try not to be too disappointed. I feel like it'll be tough to top the initial response but I'm having fun writing this and I hope you guys are still enjoying the ride!**

**PS: Sadly, it appears I'm going to have to brand this with the dreaded **_**AU **_**tag. Especially if Jamil keeps ruining things. I mean seriously, I knew a GIRL named Jamil. And cut your hair, man! What's with the dreads? (Sorry, I just hate it when the canon writers derail my antics.) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: YES! I love you all SO much! The reviews keep motivating me to update faster, so make sure they keep spilling in! I especially want to thank all of my 'anonymous' reviewers. I couldn't send a personal thank you message in your inbox, so I just want you all to know that I appreciate your feedback. And addressing an issue one of my anons brought up: YES! SOMEONE ELSE NOTICED THAT HAL WAS STARING AT LOURDES IN THE BACKGROUND WHEN SHE WAS KISSING DREADLOCK MECHANIC GUY! If you ask me, I think Jamil is gonna get killed off by season's end. Lourdes is just too nice a character for everything to go her way and it would be an excellent way to not only set up a romance for her and Hal (mutual losses and such) but also add depth to her character. Her faith would no doubt be shaken after an event like that…but that's just me speculating on what I'd do. Also, I loved her spilling too much rubbing alcohol on Pope's open wound. I think she did that on purpose, a great moment of strength for her. And Hal punching him out was even better. Pope is that one character I LOVE to hate because he's such a bastard but he's ultimately a good guy at the end of the day. But I digress. Let's get back to the farmhouse with our two favorite characters now…**

* * *

Hal wasn't in the room when she woke up. She remembered begging him to stay the night before, desperately craving the sense of security she got whenever he was around. And she remembered dropping off to sleep with the comforting feeling of his warm, rough hand squeezing hers. But when she woke up, he wasn't there anymore. The bedroom door was open, gentle sunlight streaming through the blue curtains. Sitting up slowly, she saw that her leg had been set with a piece of wood and some ace bandages. It was a crude, makeshift splint but it would do. _Hal must have done that while I was sleeping_.

The room looked cheerful in the morning light, with its light blue paint, clouds on the ceiling, and racecar them carrying on throughout the room, from the borders to the bed sheet she was lying on. This was no doubt some little boy's room. But what had become of the little boy? Was he alive somewhere, on the run? Had he been harnessed? Was he dead? She certainly hoped not, but she got the sense that she was violating someone by being here, in their home. Sure it was about survival now, but it still felt weird. It still felt wrong.

With her newly set leg, she found it easier to walk. It still hurt, but she was at least able to make it off the bed and across the room to the door. On the dresser by the door, she spotted a framed photo. A little blond boy, probably no older than Matt, in the arms of what had to be his grandparents. The eyes were haunting to look at. The picture appeared to have been taken on the porch Hal had set her down on the night before. And something stirred within her, told her that they hadn't made it. She wasn't sure of course, but in her heart she knew that none of them had. She picked up the silver frame, ran her thumb across the image in a cross pattern.

"Eternal rest, grant unto them O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen." She set the picture back on the dresser, flipping it down so that she didn't have to see their faces. She wouldn't be able to bear it if she had to look each of them in the eye every time she entered their home, their space.

Slowly, Lourdes opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. It looked much friendlier during the day, with a floral wallpaper and a few quaint pieces of folk art hanging at lopsided angles on the wall. The banister of the stairs had white, peeling paint on it and the bluish green carpeting was quite thick. The overall atmosphere was that of home and if this invasion hadn't happened, this was the type of home she would've wanted. A place where laying down roots was easy, where life was idyllic and beautiful. But the overgrown weeds out the hallway window, coupled with the burnt out station wagon she hadn't noticed coming in, proved that her reality was very different. And terrifying.

Realizing she should probably go seek out Hal, she took a step down the wooden stairs and almost immediately lost her footing, crying out and grabbing the banister to keep from falling as her stiff leg stuck out in front of her. Footsteps echoed in the house as Hal came running.

"Lourdes!" his face was ashen, eyes wide. "What are you doing? You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry!" she apologized quickly. "I was just trying to get down the stairs."

He took the steps two at a time until he reached her, draping one of her arms across his shoulders so that he could assist her down. "Next time, just call for help please," he begged. "I thought a skitter found its way into the house."

"I'm sorry!" she apologized again, hobbling along and allowing Hal to assist her onto one of the couches. The smell of food permeated the air. "What's that smell?"

"Breakfast," he said, nodding to the fireplace where newspapers were burning, several different cans of food cooking over the embers. "Found a ton of canned food in the basement. It's still good."

"Won't the skitters see the smoke?"

"Nope," Hal declared proudly. "There's a tree at the side of the house. The branches are so overgrown they're sheltering the chimney. Now," he handed her a heated can of beans and took a second for himself. "Cheers," he clinked his can to hers. "Bon appetit."

"Wait," she held up a hand, then bowed her head, making the sign of the cross.

"What are you...?"

"Saying grace," she answered him without waiting for him to finish the question. She'd been used to being asked the question.

He seemed genuinely fascinated with the idea and she lamented the fact that in this short amount of time since the invasion, nearly everyone had lost sight of their faith. "Here," she held out her hands, indicating he should join his with hers. He complied. "Bow your head." He did so. "Bless us, O Lord, in these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen." Hal murmured. Wordlessly, the dug into the meal.

The food was hearty, nourishing. She hadn't realized how hungry she truly was until she started eating, grateful for the warm and comforting beans that reminded her of summertime cookouts and happier days.

"Thanks," she said quietly, causing Hal to look at her suddenly, chewing thoughtfully.

"For what?"

"For finding me, and for bringing me here, and for not leaving me last night. And for wrapping up my leg. You did a good job."

"I've got experience wrapping fractures, remember?" he deflected, lips tweaking into a half-grin. There was a long silence before he resumed speaking. "You never did tell me why you snuck away from camp."

"Oh." Lourdes looked down, certain she was blushing. "That."

"Well go on," Hal urged, a tone of mock sternness in his voice.

"Well…Anne told me that we were running low on medicine. I wanted to help so I went looking for some. I was trying to find…like a drug store or something…"

Hal shook his head, a look of understanding crossing his features. "Why didn't you ask Weaver or the fighters for help? We could have scavenged the supplies for you…"

"But you guys do so much already. I didn't want to trouble you any more…" she trailed off, the irony of the situation dawning on her. "But I guess I did."

Hal shook his head. "You didn't trouble us…" She fixed him a disbelieving look. "It was a mild inconvenience at worst," he added with a grin.

"I just…I wanted to be brave," Lourdes continued. "I wanted…to show people that…that I can do things too. That I'm not afraid of everything. That I'm like…" She trailed off.

"Like what?" Hal asked curiously.

She blushed. "…well like…like you…"

Realization dawned on him. "You think I'm not afraid?" he asked.

Lourdes shook her head slowly, shyly. "Well…you're not. I jump at my shadow and you…you look skitters straight in the eye and don't back down."

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm scared," he replied. "I just…I keep it under control, I guess."

Lourdes shook her head sadly. "It's all my fault…I just wanted to be brave…"

"Don't say that," Hal admonished, his tone and face suddenly serious, almost stern. "It was pretty damn brave of you to get on that motorcycle without knowing how to ride it…"

"How did you know I couldn't ride?" she asked embarrassedly.

"Lucky guess," Hal shrugged. "But you wanted to help. That was brave of you."

"I'm not brave," Lourdes deflected. "I'm scared of everything."

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear," he said suddenly.

She looked at him, somewhat awestruck. "That…that's Mark Twain. You just quoted Mark Twain! How'd you know that?"

His features tweaked into a bashful smile. "When your dad's a history professor you can't help but pick up a thing or two about classic literature too...the point is, I'm scared shitless when I'm facing those skitters out there but you gotta…you gotta control your fear, not let it control you. And for what it's worth, I think you're really brave."

"How so?" Lourdes challenged.

"Aside from what I already mentioned? Well you were prepared to go become a doctor. That's brave."

"No it's not…"

"Well I think so. I mean, some of the things you've seen and treated are freaking disgusting and you don't seem scared then."

"It's different, Hal…"

"How so?" He paused. "Give yourself some credit, huh?" he nudged her gently. "You're gutsier than you think." And with that, he grabbed her empty can from her and took it off to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find some way to get us off this farm," he said when he returned. "There're some gas cans in the garage. I'm hoping there's a motorcycle or some old tractor or something lying around."

Lourdes nodded absently and he turned to go out the back door. She stopped him. "Hal?"

"Yeah?" he poked his head back into the room.

"Thanks."

He nodded, not needing any further explanation. "Don't mention it." He turned to leave again.

"Be careful!" she called after him.

"You too!" he called back. The door slammed shut. Lourdes was alone. She felt her heart rate quicken at the thought but it gradually began to slow as she willed herself to push her fears aside. _You're safe. Hal's here. Nothing's gonna happen to you. _She almost believed it, too.

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**A/N: This chapter inspired by the song "Brave" by Nichole Nordeman. The lyrics that spoke to me were: **_**'It's been fear that ties me down to everything but it's been love, your love, that cuts the strings. So long, status quo. I think I just let go. You make me want to be brave…'**_

**I think it captured the mood of this chapter and I like getting into Hal's head and writing the responses to Lourdes' statements. It's almost like these two are in my head, having an actual conversation. My inner Hal was challenged to reply to my inner Lourdes. In any event, it's once again 1:30 AM and I'm finally finished writing/editing. Most of this was actually completed earlier on though. The only part I had to add was the saying grace part, which I thought was a nice little moment for them. But it's late, so I'll just leave it at this: thank you all for your oh-so-kind reviews. Please keep the response up! It's what makes me continue to write this story in the first place and I'll be checking over my morning coffee. For now, though, good night dear readers!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Words can't describe how happy I felt when I logged on and read all your kind reviews. I was literally grinning like and idiot. You guys inspire me so much. To be honest, it's your response that keeps me writing these so quickly. I feel like I owe it to you since you're all so kind and since you obviously love it so much. If you want instant updates as to when I post new material, don't forget to put me on your alerts list OR follow me on twitter (at EbiPers). This is seriously so great. Anyway, we're jumping back to Hal now. Wonder what he's thinking…? Please don't forget to review!**

**PS: In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit of a night owl but it makes me so happy to know that some of you guys wake up and check this story first thing. It keeps me going!**

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He excused himself to check for a vehicle or some way off the farm, but in actuality he just needed some air. Some space. _What was that back there?_ Lourdes was insecure. He just did his best to reassure her. _Quit it, Hal. You don't want to give her the wrong impression! _But…what if he did? What if he said all of that not just because she needed to hear it but because _he _needed to hear it too? _You're being ridiculous. And confused. You just like having someone listen for once. _

And that was true. After the invasion, he could no longer be Hal Mason, the lacrosse player whose greatest concern was writing an English paper in twenty minutes before class started. He had to step up, fight for the resistance, protect his little brothers, watch his dad's back because his mom wasn't there to do it anymore. And it also meant that there was no time, no place in his life, to try to explain or even consider his feelings: his fears, his hopes. He still had them but they were buried under all the dirt, the sweat, the hard labor and the trauma of what had gone on. What was still going on.

Careful to keep the house in sight at all times as a landmark, he proceeded to walk into the fields, wandering aimlessly for a while. The skies were clear, completely devoid of the beamers that had sent them running the night before. _So long ago_. But he wasn't fooled. They were floating around somewhere, waiting for nightfall to go on the hunt again. They were safe for now, but for how much longer?

The first field turned up nothing but a scarecrow, not terribly horrific in the daylight but he was certain it would look far creepier in the night. The next field was empty of anything but weeds. Same story for the next one and the one after that. By the fifth field he was beginning to lose hope, dropping to the ground and grasping his head in frustration. He resisted the urge to groan, fully aware of the fact that any intrepid skitter in the area would likely hear it. Looking up at the sky, he realized it was now late afternoon. Evening would come soon and with it would bring a host of new threats. Hal made his way back to the house, opening the door quietly to avoid startling Lourdes.

"Lourdes!" he called her name as he entered the living room and was surprised to see her in front of the fireplace, heating more canned foods. "What are you doing?" he asked, more pleasantly surprised than anything.

"I figured you'd be hungry," she shrugged. "I found some spices in the cabinets and combined them with some of the canned stuff in the basement. It's supposed to be tortilla soup…"

He had to admit it was impressive. Canned rations were usually heated up and devoured no matter how bad they tasted. But this soup Lourdes had prepared looked and smelled amazing. "That's…amazing. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

She smiled shyly. "When I went off to college I couldn't always afford fresh ingredients so I substituted canned stuff in my mom's old recipes…they aren't much but I was the most popular girl in my dorm whenever I was cooking…"

"You should transfer to the mess hall," he said, only half-joking.

"It still needs some time to finish cooking. There's soap in the basement. You could…wash up…" she cast her eyes down.

The suggestion threw him off. "Th…thanks…But what about you?" It seemed the fitting question to reply with.

"I'm fine," she smiled but kept her voice quiet.

He nodded, unsure what else to do but take her advice. It struck him quickly, why he suddenly couldn't pull himself away from Lourdes' company. _Mom_. He hadn't thought of his mother in months, preferred to keep her memory isolated and avoid the barely-scarred over wounds. But Lourdes embodied the same caring, gentle nature. She was looking out for him at least as much as he was looking out for her. And it was such a good feeling to have that in his life again. Even with Karen, he hadn't found that. Karen was like him: tough as nails, rough around the edges. Her brand of caring was shooting skitters so they couldn't shoot him first. And while it was nice to have someone watching his back in the field, he didn't realize how much he had truly missed having someone looking out for him after the fight was done. Until now.

There was a bucket in the basement and he emptied a few of the water bottles into it. It seemed wasteful—at camp they'd used collected rainwater or water drawn from a river or lake—but he figured they could get a few days' use of the water in the bucket. And there were plenty of bottles to spare. He added soap to the bucket and carried it upstairs to the bathroom, using a towel from the linen closet as a washcloth to clean away the heavy layer of dirt that had accumulated on him. It felt refreshing to be clean and he was glad he had taken Lourdes' suggestion. By the time he made his way downstairs, feeling much improved, Lourdes was using a soup ladle from the kitchen to spoon soup into two empty cans.

"Where'd you get those clothes?" Lourdes asked him, turning to hand him a can like he had done for her that morning.

"Found them in the closet of one of the bedrooms. They're a bit baggy but I figured they'd do."

She looked a bit apprehensive. "I'm not sure…"

"Would you prefer I went around without clothes?" It was meant as a joke but the words fell from his mouth before he could think them through. There was an awkward pause and he swore she was blushing heavily. _Dammit! _He coughed. "Anyway…"

"Yeah…" she scratched the side of her head, averting her eyes. "Should we…should we say grace?"

"Uh…sure," he was grateful for any excuse to change the subject and they joined hands. Once more Lourdes said the blessing over the meal and he mumbled a half-hearted 'amen.' They tucked into the meal. The soup was like an explosion of flavor in his mouth, much better than anything he'd been eating since the invasion started. Possibly better than anything he'd ever eaten, period. It was thick and hearty and spicy and he realized how much he really had missed some 'real' cooking.

"Remind me again why you don't work in the mess?" he requested, a look of awe and admiration plastered to his features.

She grinned, biting her lip. "Medical attention kind of trumps cooking," she replied, sifting through the can with a spoon, drawing up loose kernels of corn and daintily scooping them into her mouth in a way that made Hal feel guilty for having shoveled everything into his mouth as quickly as possible.

"Did you find anything that we could use to get out of here?" she asked.

Hal shook his head disappointedly. "I wasn't able to check all the fields today. There's gotta be something out there we can use…"

"What if there isn't? What do we do then?"

Hal had been considering the question all day himself, but he was really hoping that Lourdes wouldn't ask. There really was no good way to answer that question because there really was no good answer. "I…I don't know," he finally admitted, a tight knot beginning to form in his stomach. "But we'll figure it out," he was quick to add, though again he knew he was saying it more for his benefit than hers.

"It'll be easier once my leg gets better," she told him as she rose to collect the cans. He stopped her, gently pushing her back into a sitting position and taking the can from her hands.

"It's not gonna get any better if you keep doing things like that," he said with mock severity that made her smile.

After dinner, Hal helped Lourdes up the stairs and back to the bedroom he'd set her down in on the first night. "Do you need help getting ready or…" he stopped, cringing as he once again managed to say the wrong thing. Lourdes either didn't notice what could have been insinuated or she didn't let on, instead smiling sweetly and declining politely.

"I just wish I had something to change into," she lamented. He figured it would be a harmless action, so he went into the largest of the bedrooms, where he'd found the clothes he was presently wearing. There was a nightgown in the second closet, easily two sizes too big for Lourdes' petite frame but something was better than nothing. What was more disturbing to him was the fact that he had even noted her build to begin with. _Have I really been staring at her body this whole time subconsciously? _He brought the nightgown to her but she frowned at it with disapproval.

"I…I can't. It's stealing." She pushed the offending garment away as if touching it would incur the wrath of some unseen force.

"No it's not. It's just borrowing," he replied with some amount of mirth. She shot him a look but the feeble excuse seemed to appease her because she took the gown and politely requested that he step outside.

He complied. But all he could think of was what she must look like _inside _the room at that very moment. _Cool it, Hal! You aren't thinking straight! Lourdes is nice but…she's no Karen. _He ran a tired hand down his face. _Get a grip! What the hell are you thinking?_

The door opened a short time later and Hal had to laugh at the sight before him. The fabric was hanging loosely off of Lourdes' body, bunching up at her feet. She looked like a small child trying to fit into her mother's clothing. "Don't laugh," she begged. "You picked it out."

"No it's…" he stifled another laugh. "It's a good look for you."

She crossed back to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. "I found a Bible on the bookshelf," she stated.

"Can I…can I ask you something?" Hal questioned.

"Sure," she looked to him expectantly, seemingly eager to answer any question he might have for her.

It was clear he was struggling to come up with the right words. "Why…are you so…devout? What does it do for you?"

Lourdes paused a moment to formulate a response. "I guess if we don't have faith…what do we have? I mean, this whole thing strengthened my faith more than anything. It gives me hope. It keeps me going."

"Putting a bullet into every damn skitter I meet keeps me going," Hal mumbled, suddenly feeling very insecure in this new territory. He was never a religious kid to begin with but the invasion had taken what little faith he'd had left. If this omnipotent, all-powerful God he was taught to believe in really existed, why did He allow Hal's mom to die and Ben to be taken? Why didn't He protect Earth from this invasion in the first place?

"Pray with me?" Lourdes offered, patting the spot beside her on the bed. He shrugged and sat down.

"I…I don't know how," he said with a great deal of embarrassment.

She chuckled lightly. "There's no right or wrong way. Just…just speak what's on your mind. Tell God who you want to pray for." Hal was silent. "Try it!" she urged. "Close your eyes and think about all the people you care about."

He felt stupid doing this, but if it appeased Lourdes then he may as well. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he began. "Ben, Matt, Anne, Captain Weaver…my dad, wherever he is." He hesitated before adding "Karen," looking to Lourdes quickly to see what her response would be. To his surprise, she was perfectly serene, eyes shut, waiting patiently for him to finish. "Dai, Anthony, and us."

Lourdes waited a beat before picking up where he left off. "Loving God, we trust that You hear our prayers and our intentions and we pray that You answer us. Please protect our friends back at camp, especially Hal's brothers and Dr. Glass. And for Mr. Mason, that You bring him back to us safely. And we pray that You bring Karen back to us, too."

Hal's eyes snapped open again though Lourdes' remained shut. Why was she praying for Karen, who had been rude and sometimes outright cruel to her? It had always made him feel uncomfortable to see that side of his girlfriend, to see her being mean to such a nice person. But why would Lourdes pray for Karen? It occurred to him that maybe he had a lot more to learn from this girl than he'd originally thought.

Lourdes recited a prayer in Spanish that he didn't understand, then made the sign of the cross. He joined her in the 'amen.'

"Don't you feel better?" she asked him.

"A little," he lied. If anything, they're little prayer session had just raised more questions in his mind. "Well, I'll let you go to sleep," he rose to get up.

"Hal?" Lourdes asked, her voice suddenly shrinking into a shy, quiet peep. He turned to look at her. "I'm sorry to keep troubling you but…do you think you could stay here again tonight. I just…I feel safer with you around." Then she added quickly, "you know, because you have the weapons…"

He considered it only a brief moment before nodding slowly. "Of course I'll stick around." And once again he took his spot on the floor, leaning against the bedpost despite Lourdes' protests that she could easily make room for him in the tiny bed too.

* * *

It was still dark out when Hal woke up, startled to hear sobbing beside him. He rolled over to face Lourdes, about to ask her what was wrong, when he realized her eyes were still shut. _She's crying in her sleep_. And she was mumbling, too. He wasn't sure what drove him to do it, but he suddenly perked up and listened closely.

"Mama…Papa…" it was a never-ending wail and still she didn't stir.

"Lourdes!" he whispered softly, receiving no response. "Lourdes! Lourdes!" he shook her gently and she rolled over to face him, clearly frightened by the sudden awakening.

"Hal?" she asked, obviously groggy.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm…I'm fine…"

"It sounded like you were crying…"

Lourdes paused a moment. "Oh." She looked away, ashamed. "I was…having a nightmare. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay," he said quickly. "I…I understand. I get them too sometimes."

Lourdes looked to him, some glassy tears still gathered in the corners of her eyes. "Really?"

He nodded affirmative.

"W…what are yours about?" she asked.

He hesitated, sighing a bit because really, he hated recalling his nightmares. "Most of them are about my mom," he finally admitted.

"Hal…I'm so sorry," Lourdes began, sliding off the bed to sit beside him, putting a soft hand on his shoulder.

"N…no. It's…it's fine. It's just that sometimes I…I just wish I could have done more for her. And then other times I see Ben in my nightmares, being harnessed all over again and…" He felt the pressure building behind his eyes and willed himself to hold it together. _Not here, idiot! Not while Lourdes is here. It won't help her any. _He used her empathy as justification for not wanting to be seen crying in front of her but ultimately he knew that some part of him also wanted to maintain a good impression. Some infinitesimal part of him that was seemingly gaining more power each day. "What do you see in yours?" he finally asked.

There was long pause before Lourdes finally replied: "I see my parents. And I see my sister," she said. "It's…it's my sister that haunts me the most." Her voice broke. "She was just a kid...almost the same age as Ben…"

"Was she harnessed?" Hal asked, gently but curiously, scooting closer to Lourdes, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder and cry.

"No, thank God," she took in a watery breath. "But…I just wish I could have been there…to help them. I should have been there..." She lost her composure and he felt her tears dampening his shoulder. Hal didn't know when he started running a hand through her dark, wavy hair but he didn't stop. It seemed to have a calming effect on her.

"I know," he whispered. "I know, Lourdes." He hadn't realized how much he had in common with Lourdes. Everything he did was motivated by his desire to protect his family and it seemed Lourdes was the same way. _Only she doesn't have a family anymore_. And then Hal surprised Lourdes and himself by pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head in a gesture of affection that he thought felt…right. He felt her tremble, his hand froze in her hair. Everything seemed to stop for a moment. And then an ear-shattering explosion reached both of their ears…

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**A/N: Evil cliffhanger of evilness! Hahahahahaha. And you thought they were actually gonna get somewhere as they bonded over their mutual loss. Well the skitters obviously have other plans than to allow them their happy little romance. I hate Karen (as I may have mentioned) but I feel like I have to keep dragging her into this. She's the main guilt-trip here for Hal after all. And also, I feel like Lourdes should have had a sister who died. She never states she was an only child so I took the liberty of writing it in there. Anyway, I'm still very, very happy to receive such wonderful reviews so frequently. I may not be able to update tomorrow as I have a party to attend (and skitters won't be involved). But hey, I'm early! It's only 1 AM as opposed to 1:30 or 2! If you want to know when the next update goes up, please follow me either here or on Twitter at EbiPers. Well that's it for tonight. Peace! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am continuously AMAZED at how great response is for this story. Words can't describe how grateful I am to you guys because you make it what it is! And the frequent compliments I receive on characterization are truly, truly appreciated because it isn't always easy. **_**Falling Skies **_**doesn't offer much in the way of back story—what happened in the past doesn't really matter when you're fighting aliens all day. So to have people tell me that my characterization is spot on really makes my day. Keep the reviews pouring in, guys! **

**PS: I want to apologize for last chapter's multiple grammatical errors. I was freaking exhausted and pushing through it so I got sloppy towards the end. The grammar WILL be cleaner this time around! (Sorry, perfectionist rant…) ALSO: back to Lourdes' head now. Keeps the suspense going as you're only finding things out as she does.**

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It was all a blur. One moment she was sitting on the floor, crying on Hal Mason's shoulder, feeling him running a comforting hand through her hair, feeling his surprisingly soft lips press gently against the top of her head. She felt her breath hitch, a tremble coursing through her because _this_, _this _was what she had so often dreamed of. _This _was what she needed. And then the first explosion hit, rocking the house to its core.

They broke apart as suddenly as they had come together, Hal already up with gun in hand before she could fully process what was going on. Terror gripped her as a second explosion sounded, then a third.

"Sounds like the beamers are getting close," Hal said tensely, opening the door slowly and peering down over the banister. "Just…stay here 'til I get back."

"Where are you going?"

"To see what's going on. Those explosions couldn't have been more than a mile away."

"What do I do if they get in?" she asked, almost pleading.

Hal thought a moment before tossing her a pistol that was attached to his belt and his knife. "Try shooting them first. You don't want them to get close enough to stab, trust me."

Lourdes recoiled from the firearm, staring at it in alarm. "I…what do I do with this? I don't know how it works!"

"Safety's at the top," he said urgently as another explosion ripped through the area, sounding even closer than before. "Just click it off, cock it, aim, and pull the trigger. It's pretty easy to learn under pressure."

"Not for me," she reminded him, fumbling with the different mechanisms.

"Just…trust me. I don't plan on you having to use it anyway." Another explosion. "I'm gonna go. Lay low and wait until I give you the all clear."

She nodded, eyes wide. "Please, _please _be careful."

"You know I will. Stay out of sight." He disappeared down the stairs. Lourdes heard the back door slam shut and suddenly the fear came down on her like a ton of bricks. She stared at the gun in her hand, felt the weighty, unfamiliar sensation of it. She never liked guns. They always reminded her of Mexico City, where the gangsters and cartel members would sometimes have firefights outside her school. It was terrifying and she could never shake the flashbacks that inevitably came when she heard shots being fired. Now she was holding one of those weapons herself. It felt wrong.

The knife was a more familiar tool in her hand, though she'd never used it for self defense. It was a pretty straightforward object, sharp with a rough handle. She unsheathed it, saw it glint in the dim moonlight that filtered into the room. Another explosion went off, this time illuminating the room in an eerie blue glow for a few moments. She could see the scratches and rust-colored stains on the knife and knew that the object had ended its fair share of skitters.

It felt oddly comforting to have the knife, though. Not only was she familiar with how to use one (and where, specifically, to target on the skitter) but it was also Hal's knife. It made her feel like he was still in the room. _Stay out of sight, Lourdes! _She scooted beneath the bed, tucking herself against the wall on her side so that she could keep an eye on the door without anyone being able to see her.

Hiding under the bed was another thing she was used to. Sometimes she would play _escondite_, or hide-and-seek, with her sister when they were younger. The bed was always a favorite hiding place of hers. Something about the dark, out-of-sight area comforted her—part of the age-old 'ostrich effect' of 'if I can't see them, they can't see me.' And in times of sheer terror like this, she often liked to imagine herself hiding beneath her bed again. _C'mon, Lourdes. You can't keep hiding like this and wishing the attacks away! _

Another explosion ripped through the area. Timidly, Lourdes crept from her hiding place and peered out of the window. Hal wasn't visible, but she could see smoke and flame rising from one of the fields of the farmhouse. A beamer flew overhead and she ducked out of sight, a small squeal escaping from her lips. Suddenly, she heard a sharp cry emit from somewhere nearby, just outside the house. It was loud, laced with pain, and unmistakably Hal's. _Hal! _

She was out of the room and halfway down the stairs before she even knew what she was doing. _You need to be brave now, Lourdes. Hal might need you! _It wasn't just the fact that she owed him. She genuinely cared for him. And to know that he could be injured or worse was enough to override her normal fears. _Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear_.

In pre-med, she'd learned about adrenaline and what it could do to the human body. Adrenaline was the primary hormone responsible for initiating a 'fight-or-flight' reaction, in which a person decides to either engage in a potentially dangerous situation with aggression (fight) or retreat from the situation (flight). And Lourdes was confident in saying she normally preferred flight to fight. But adrenaline also made the heart rate spike, caused blood to course through veins faster. It prepared the body for either response. In dangerous situations involving loved ones, it often provoked a fight reaction, such as when mothers' children were threatened, or when a family member was trapped in a burning building. People defied logic in these cases, tossed self-preservation to the wind. And she found herself in a similar situation now, suddenly fixated on reaching Hal. The fracture in her leg didn't even hurt. In fact, she was frustrated with the splint, feeling it was only a hindrance.

When she opened the back door, she was immediately hit with an overpowering scent of burning and of smoke but the air was silent. The beamers weren't flying overhead any longer and she couldn't see any more flames. It was oddly…calm. Like the calm before a storm. Or right before the invasion. And it unnerved her.

"Hal?" she called, as loudly as she dared. "Hal?" She detected shuffling around the side of the house and whipped her head around to face it. The source of the noise was obstructed by the wall, though, and her heart rate jumped significantly. "Hal?" she almost whispered, slowly creeping her way to the side of the house. _Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. _She brought up the gun, held it in her trembling hands, and slowly, so slowly peered around the side. The sight made her jump back

She counted two skitters, both formidable in size. And they were carrying an unconscious Hal away. She shut her eyes, felt a shudder run through her body. _No. They are not taking Hal. You're going to stop them. _She took a deep breath, felt her blood pumping double time. And then she whipped around the corner before she could give herself time to reconsider. The first skitter turned. She raised the gun, hands shaking uncontrollably. _Safety's at the top. Pull it, aim, cock it, and shoot. _Hal's instructions ran through her mind repeatedly as she did her best to follow them. She pulled the safety mechanism, aimed shakily at the creature, which had by now dropped Hal's legs and moved toward her. _Cock it_. The gun clicked like it did in the action movies she used to stay up late watching with her roommates instead of studying. _Now shoot it! _The skitter was moving swiftly, coming directly toward her. _Shoot, Lourdes, shoot! _She pulled the trigger.

The skitter went down with a horrendous shriek, its blood spraying the ground, pooling and darkening around its now lifeless form. She was horrified. It was too easy. The first life she'd ever taken and it was _so_ easy. She stared at the gun in her hand for a few seconds before looking up, seeing that the other skitter had continued to drag Hal away. She raised the gun to shoot but decided against it, realizing that the results would be disastrous if she missed. And she wasn't a good shot to begin with. _You have to do something! _

She broke into an awkward run, the splint keeping her from bending her leg fully. The skitter looked up and for a moment she saw something almost…human flash in its eyes. A sort of desperate look that told her it was trapped, that it had no other friends nearby to help it. It was an empowering feeling. But also a hopelessly sad one. _No. They're trying to kill you. Do something. _

Trembling as she got within range, she raised the gun. _Do it, Lourdes! Now or never! _The creature was backing itself into the fields. In a matter of moments it would disappear and Hal along with it. She repeated the motion. _Safety's at the top_. Click. _Aim_. The gun was in line with the skitter's face. _Cock it_. Another click, this one carrying a nearly lethal reverberating noise with it. _And shoot_. The flash of the pistol's discharge frightened her, the _pop _it emitted bringing back horrific images of her childhood. The skitter cried out, the most painful of rattles echoing from its dying throat. She had hit is square in the neck. It had dropped Hal.

Lourdes rushed over, looked at the alien creature. Its eyes were slowly losing what life they had in them and it squealed again as she leant over it. "I'm sorry," she whispered to it, feeling the tears already stinging at the back of her eyes. There was a look of almost…understanding? Or was it her imagination? After all, weren't _they _the ones killing the humans? And then, with one more choking gasp, the skitter died away. The tears streamed down Lourdes' face as she pitched the gun as far away from her as she could. As far as she was concerned, she never wanted to hold a gun again.

"Eternal rest grant unto him…O Lord…" she couldn't finish, the sobs racking her body keeping her from speaking. And then she remembered. _Hal! _She turned her attention to the boy, who was still lying unconscious a few feet away. She crawled on her hands and knees to get to him, suddenly feeling very weak and tired. And her leg hurt. _A lot_. _The adrenaline rush is wearing off_.

"Hal," she whispered as she approached, gazing down on his face. He was bleeding, evidently hit on the temple with something blunt. The ugly gash marred his handsome features, sent the blood dripping down one side of his face, causing dirt to stick to it. "Hal!" Her voice was choked with tears as she frantically searched the side of his neck for a pulse. "Hal!" She was relieved when she felt it there, relatively strong given the injuries.

Lourdes looked around frantically, searching the skies for the beamers that would no doubt be coming soon, once they realized that the two scouts they'd sent had died. _Died by your hand_, she reminded herself. _I have to move those bodies_. Confident that Hal would last if she left him momentarily, she approached the dead skitter, suddenly appalled to touch something she had slain. The skin was cold, no longer slimy like she'd expected it to be. She had only ever touched a skitter through gloves, and that one was long dead. It was no worse than studying cadavers in the med lab. But here she was handling a fresh kill, _her _fresh kill, with her bare hands. Gingerly, she dragged the dead creature the few yards to its fallen companion, depositing them side by side. There wasn't time to bury them, so she grabbed two floorboards off of the porch and fastened them together with weeds in a makeshift cross before sticking them into the ground at the skitters' head. _Even if they don't have a god, maybe mine will take care of them_.

Her terror only increased when she realized that the house was no longer safe. More skitters would find them eventually, maybe even mechs or beamers. And if that happened, there was no hope left for them. Especially with Hal's injuries. She made the decision that they would seek shelter in the fields until Hal could heal more. _And then he'll resume control of the situation and it'll be fine_. _But…what if he doesn't wake up? _She willed herself to ignore everything she'd read about head trauma, how if it was severe enough the victim could end up in a coma or even brain dead. _Hal's fine. He's brave. He's a fighter. He'll pull through just fine. _

But the reality was, he was still bleeding. She noticed this upon her return, spotting the blood pooling around him at a rapid rate that wasn't encouraging. His breath was far shallower now than before and his pulse had weakened was deteriorating rapidly due to blood loss. And with a sinking feeling she realized that if she didn't find a way to stop it, there wouldn't be a Hal to worry about anymore. _You can't let that happen, Lourdes. Do something_. She pulled the ace bandages off of her splint, letting the wood fall away from her, and used the bandages to fashion a crude wrap around Hal's head. It would hold for now, but it wouldn't do in the long run.

She realized then, too, that if she didn't go back in the house and retrieve medical supplies then Hal would bleed to death right in front of her. Steeling herself and feeling her side to ensure the knife was still sheathed there, she climbed the steps and carefully slipped inside, letting out occasional hisses of pain as her leg disagreed with her movement. The once homey-feeling space was suddenly horrific, full of unfamiliar surroundings. She was certain that at every corner there would be a skitter waiting to attack her. But the attack never came. She made it to the linen closet, pulled as many different bottles of pills and boxes as she could, shedding her jacket so that she could carry them all. Midway, she remembered Hal's pack still lying in the bedroom and dared herself to grab it. She stuffed the meds inside and remembered to grab some water bottles from the basement (far more terrifying in the dark) before returning to Hal's side at the entrance to the fields. She had to move him, next. There was no way she could administer aid to him out in the open where they could be found quite easily.

It was no light task, trying to drag Hal's dead-weight without harming him or herself, but she somehow managed to pull him into an area of field completely obscured by the tall weeds. The light was poor but she could make do with that. Quietly, she inspected her haul from the linen closets, pulling out gauze, surgical tape, and rubbing alcohol wipes from a first aid kit. She ripped off the ace bandages and discarded them, then cleaned the area of the wound thoroughly. Field medicine wasn't her specialty, not by a long shot, but she could make it work. She _had _to make it work.

She attached the gauze to his forehead, securing it with surgical tape. Now she had to find a way to wake him, to make sure that he really would be okay. The medical supplies turned up no real solutions to this problem, so she resorted to splashing some cold water onto his cheeks and tapping them repeatedly. "Hal. Hal. Hal!" To her relief, his hazel eyes fluttered open, almost grey in color at the moment. A surge of relief swept through her. "Hal!"

He looked dazed, tried to sit up slowly but she pushed him back down. He gripped his head, the pain seeming to catch up to him. "Lourdes," he gasped, blinking repeatedly. "What…what happened?"

The tears were beginning to overtake her speech again and she breathed in shakily a few times. "The…the skitters…they got you and…I thought I was going to lose you…what happened?"

Hal groaned. "God…I, I went out to see what was happening and…I saw beamers bombing the fields across the street…and the skitters ambushed me. I didn't…have time to react," he kept rubbing his temple until she pulled his hand away from the spot.

"You'll make it bleed worse," she said, laughing a watery laugh of relief.

"God it hurts like hell," he complained, though his humor was evidently intact.

"Just wait," she returned. "Once the bleeding stops I'll have to stitch it shut."

"Kill me now," he groaned, lying back down.

Deciding that the spot was safe for the night, Lourdes flopped down beside him. "You scared me so much…" she whispered, feeling the tears pushing at the back of her eyes. "I thought I lost you for a minute."

"Well I'm still here," he said. "And you should've known better—I wasn't gonna let those skitters get me that easily." There was a pause in the conversation. "How'd…how'd you…you know…save me?" he asked, speaking the last two words softer than the others. There was a note of wonder and gratefulness in his voice, mixed with a little embarrassment. "I thought that was my job…"

"Hal…I…I used the gun on them," she said.

His voice was suddenly serious beside her. "You…killed them?"

"Yeah," she breathed and it was evident that she was crying.

Slowly, she felt Hal's arm reach across, draw her closer to his side. The contact was enough to make her heart rate soar. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling so afraid anymore. Hal was still here, still with her. He was still protecting her. And after everything that had gone on that night, she really needed that. Needed to feel that she wasn't alone.

"I told you," Hal said suddenly, rolling onto his side to face her.

She rolled over as well, their faces just inches apart. "About what?"

"You _are _brave." And he leant in and closed the distance between them before she could even react. The contact on her lips was brief, fleeting. But it was soft, gentle, and when he broke away an indiscernible mix of emotions crossed his face. And despite the fact that this was the kiss of her dreams, she couldn't help but feel she had crossed some invisible boundary, violated some unwritten rule…

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**A/N: It was time for a kiss. A big, angst-ridden kiss but a kiss nonetheless. I wonder what happens from here? Reviews encourage me to update so you can find out! Sorry about the delay but like I said: I was a party, getting sugar-high of mock-tails and dancing in a fashion that I'll probably be ashamed of once the photos get printed. But hey, you only live once. Anyway, please review and if you want more of ME (and let's face it, who doesn't? :P) then you can follow me on Twitter at EbiPers. I'll be live-tweeting Falling Skies tomorrow if all goes according to plan. Thanks for your time. The new episode tomorrow will probably give me more fodder for this story. **

**PS: Things get angstier from here. And also, be honest about her reaction to killing the skitter. I just can't picture Lourdes hurting a fly so I was trying to capture how distressing it really was for her. Was it good? Bad? Plain ugly? **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: He-yo! Really glad you guys are still enjoying. I want to personally thank each and every reader, reviewer, and follower of this story. Without you, I'd have no motivation to write anything. Last chapter we got a little kiss that Hal initiated. And now we'll jump back into his head to see the aftermath of said initiated kiss. Please read and review. I kept this author's note short to allow you to get right to the chase. Oh and sorry about not updating last night like I promised: I was helping a friend edit a two-act play she wrote and I ended up falling asleep at my desk!**

* * *

It felt like a long time coming, that kiss. Almost like he'd been waiting…_wanting _to do that for the longest time. And that's what scared him the most. The thought that it actually felt _right_, that it felt _comfortable_. To the point that he almost didn't want to stop kissing Lourdes but had to force himself to pull his lips from hers before this had a chance to get any deeper. Before _he _had a chance to get any deeper into the feeling. He took in the sight of her, her dark eyes just fluttering open, her lips still slightly parted. For a moment, neither spoke but a wave of conflicting emotions were suddenly slamming into him.

_What was that? Why the _hell _did you just kiss her? What were you thinking? _She studied his face intently and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, softly.

_Why is _she _sorry? _You _are the one who should be sorry, Hal. _But sorry for what, really? That he hadn't done that sooner? Sorry that he was betraying Karen? Sorry that he actually almost _enjoyed_ the kiss? Sorry that he was so unsure of what exactly it was that he felt for Lourdes? _Sorry. _"No I'm sorry," he said. "I…I shouldn't have done that…it was a mistake…" He was suddenly very agitated, his head hurting a good deal from whatever that skitter had hit him with. The soft feeling of the gauze only served to remind him further of how much he really owed Lourdes.

"Oh," Lourdes replied softly, her eyes downcast. A tremble wracked her body as she rolled over, away from him.

_Way to go, Hal. You just pushed her away from you. _The thought of pushing Lourdes' company _away _after spending two long days together, saving each other's lives, was suddenly a frightening prospect. For just that time, he felt almost at home. Like there was someone watching his back for more than just aliens trying to shoot him. Like there was someone looking out for his more basic needs—food, water.

"Lourdes…" he began, completely unsure of what he really planned on saying to her once he got her attention but knowing that he _had _to say something. He could _not _lose her companionship. He wanted her companionship. He _needed _her companionship.

"No…" she said, a break in her voice. "I…I don't…never mind…"

"No, Lourdes, please…" he began again, trying hard to convince her to listen. _But why should she? You just kissed her and basically told her it was a mistake. What did you expect her to do?_

"Hal…" her voice was abrupt. "We…should rest…"

He felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. "Yeah…right…" He remained facing her back, dull pain coursing its way through his forehead but it was somehow fitting that he should be constantly reminded of it. Of the gauze that _she _had put on for him.

He woke up in the middle of the night, still on his side, but Lourdes had rolled over and was once more facing him. Her deep, even breathing confirmed his suspicions that she was, in fact, asleep. Once more she appeared so calm in her sleep, so relaxed. There was a tear gathered in the corner of her eye, silver and glistening in the moonlight. He carefully swept it away with his finger, careful not to wake her. _God, what are you doing Hal? _

What was he doing? Besides feeling more and more conflicted about everything. _You loved Karen. _It was true. Karen would always be his first love. For once in his life he'd met a girl who was on even ground with him, who was just as fierce, who could hold her own. All the other girlfriends he'd had, lacrosse groupies for the most part, had faded away in his eyes. He couldn't remember their names anymore, even if he tried. And he was so convinced that he _loved _Karen. But the skitters—those _damned _skitters had other plans. And now that she was gone, seemingly unreachable, he was suddenly unsure. _You loved Karen then…_He did. _So why not now? _Because someone else was here now, someone else who had demonstrated that she cared. Someone that wasn't on even ground with him because in his mind she was _above _him.

Lourdes had stuck to her morals this whole time, unlike him. She had resisted the changes that had swept up almost everyone else. She had religion in her life and until tonight she hadn't killed a living creature before. _You made her do that. Good job. _Hal, on the other hand, had sworn to himself that he'd never kill a living creature, other than insects of course. But that was before the invasion. And once that had happened all of his promises and swears had been thrown to the wind. He was all too eager to pick up a gun and start shooting, especially once those bastards killed his mother.

_Mom_. He could almost see her, but the vision was fading. He remembered his mother's long, blonde hair. He'd taken comfort in burying his face into it when he was so much smaller than he was now. He could see her greenish hazel eyes, so much like Ben's. Most of all he remembered her warm smile, how even in the most adverse of situations she was able to bring comfort to him, put him immediately at ease. And it struck him how Lourdes was able to have the same effect with her smile. He'd already compared his mother's care and Lourdes' care once before but the more he considered it, the more evident it became.

It was an uneasy rest that finally claimed him, wracked with guilt, hurt, and visions of Karen and his mother. He wasn't surprised when he woke up with a sheen of sweat covering him. It was just before dawn and he reluctantly nudged Lourdes awake.

"Lourdes! We gotta get up and find shelter before daybreak! Lourdes!"

The girl sat up slowly and took in the sight of him. "How's your head?" she asked, hand gently touching the gauze.

"Still throbs," he said nonchalantly.

"The bleeding's definitely stopped by now. Once we find someplace to hide I'll stitch up the cut." She slowly rose but let out a cry of pain and collapsed back to the ground a second later.

Hal flew to her side, surprised to see that the splint was no longer there. "What happened to the splint?" he asked.

Lourdes released a hiss of pain. "I had to use the ace bandages to stop your bleeding," she said. "I guess I sorta over-exerted myself…"

_She's enduring excruciating pain for you. Way to go, asshole. _"Okay," he said, trying hard not to betray his guilt. "I'll carry you…"

"No," she resisted. "I don't want you straining yourself. Who knows what the skitters did to you?"

He sighed in frustration. "Then…wait here. I'll head back to the house and see if I can find something. We'll need supplies anyway…" He reached for his gun, always slung over his shoulder, and gasped when he realized he was groping for empty space. "Where's my gun?" he asked, panicked.

"I don't know," Lourdes replied. "You didn't have it when I got to you…the skitters must have taken it."

"Dammit!" Hal swore.

"Here, take your knife back," Lourdes handed the knife to him. Hal accepted it after a momentary hesitation. "You'll need it if you're going back in that house," she added to reassure him that taking the weapon would be the right move.

"I'll be right back," he said. "And I mean it this time!"

The house was still intact from the previous night's attack, which led Hal to believe that he and Lourdes were never the intended targets. _Which means there were more people around…_But were they from the 2nd Mass? Or were they just hapless survivors who were discovered? Either way it was a foregone conclusion that they were no longer alive. _But they may have had something that can help us_…Hal resolved to check the area around where the bombings had occurred once he was healed better.

Although an initial sweep had turned up nothing, Hal finally found an object of use in a dusty corner of the garage: _a wheelbarrow_. He could fit a good amount of supplies in it and still be able to carry Lourdes to a safe point. And he'd re-set her leg once they were safe.

It was a chore to grab the wheelbarrow and carry it down to the basement, especially with the infrequent dizzy spells brought on by the headaches, but he decided that if Lourdes could tough out the pain for an entire night then he could certainly deal with this little bit of pain now. He loaded cans of food and other supplies into the wheelbarrow before dragging the newly-weighted object back up the stairs and out the backdoor. Once on the grass, it was easy to wheel it back to the spot where he'd left Lourdes.

"Found a wheelbarrow," he declared triumphantly. "Get in."

It was clear from her expression that she felt a bit ridiculous having to ride in a wheelbarrow but, with no other alternative and daylight fast breaking, she accepted Hal's hand to assist herself in getting in. Hal wheeled the cart along through the fields, sticking to the tall weeds to avoid being spotted. By the time the sun was up, they had been plodding along for what seemed like hours. The house was becoming a smaller and smaller speck in the distance and still they hadn't run into any place to shelter them from view.

"We'll have to stop soon," Hal panted, pausing to take a swig from a bottle of water. "There's gotta be someplace around here where we can seek shelter…"

Lourdes shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned the area. "There!" she pointed to her right. "There's some sort of shed or barn…I can't tell…"

Hal looked in the direction of her finger. "It's our only shot."

Pushing the heavy wheelbarrow was much easier when the promise of rest was right around the corner. The structure turned out to be a barn and grain silo, free-standing in the middle of the field. Hal set Lourdes in the wheelbarrow down a few yards away, easily reachable if he had to defend her, then silently crept around the side of the barn and peered into the open doors. It was empty…except for something glinting inside. Almost like…chrome? He stepped in a little further, squinting in the dim light. And there, in the corner collecting dust, was a beautiful sight: an El Camino that looked like it hadn't been run in months, gas cans littering the floor around it. _It just might work_. The barn turned out to be empty other than that, with a roomy loft that would be ideal should they need to hide. A few empty crates littered the concrete floor but it appeared that this place had been used for equipment and grain storage and nothing else. Determining the area to be safe, Hal wheeled Lourdes inside and helped her climb out, easing her into a sitting position and shutting the massive doors.

"It's dark," she noted, a fearful tone in her voice.

Hal regretted not bringing the matchbox from the kitchen of the house but it was too late to consider that now. "We'll have to make do," he said. "Our eyes will adjust."

Lourdes nodded. "Let me look at your head wound. I want to see how it's healing." Her voice had a note of coolness to it, similar to Anne's during times of crisis.

Hal complied, sitting down across from her and allowing her to slowly remove the surgical tape and gauze. Her gasp wasn't reassuring. "What's wrong?"

"It started bleeding again," she said tightly. "I'm gonna have to stitch it up."

"Here? In the dark?" Hal asked.

Lourdes nodded. "Do you trust me?" _That's an ironic echo…_

He thought carefully before choosing his words. "Of course I trust you Lourdes…more than anyone."

She paused, suddenly seeming shy. "L…lie back. I'll take care of it…"

Hal obeyed, reclining on his elbows as his eyes became slowly accustomed to the dim haziness. He heard Lourdes rummaging through the pack, her movements becoming more and more frantic with each passing second. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"I didn't grab a needle or thread," she said. "Did you?"

"No," he said after a beat. "I…I didn't know we'd need it."

Lourdes shook her head, looking desperate and almost defeated. "I'll…I'll have to go back," she said.

"What?"

"We need that if I'm going to sew up that wound, Hal. I mean, you could…you could bleed out otherwise!"

His mouth set in a grim line. "I'll take that chance…"

"But I _won't_!" she interrupted. "It's…it's fine. I'll go back to the house and…"

"No," Hal quickly refused. "You can barely walk, how do you expect to make it all that way?" He saw her twist her neck around, knew exactly what she was looking at. "No," he repeated. "Can you even drive?"

"I…I can figure it out," she said quickly.

"Look, Lourdes. I'll go back, I'll grab what you need me to…"

"But Hal…the head wound and your dizzy spells…you can't."

"Well neither can you," he countered adamantly. "Just…just do what you did last time—it stopped the bleeding, right?"

"Yeah but…but there's no guarantee. I mean the gauze didn't stop the bleeding the first time…"

"Please…Lourdes," he pled. "I'd…I'd feel better if you just stayed here."

He could feel her hesitation but relaxed when she slowly nodded.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll…I'll put more gauze on it…"

The rest of the day was spent in relative silence as the two began unpacking essentials from their haul. Around midday, Hal inspected the El Camino and found that it was, in fact, operable. The only trouble was: it was missing two wheels. He sighed in defeat. "Looks like we're staying a while," he said. "It's missing its two rear wheels."

Lourdes made a noise to acknowledge the new fact, then turned back to cataloging the medical supplies. Hal sat down cross-legged beside her, handing her pill bottles. It stung to see her acting…cold. "You know I…I wanted to say sorry," he began, watching her closely for her reaction. She turned to him with a questioning look. "…for what I said last night after…you know…I…I shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine," she cut him off abruptly. "It's…sort of my fault anyway," she let out a self-conscious laugh.

"It wasn't. At least not anything you could control," he said.

_Alright. You apologized. But goddammit, Hal, you better do right by her this time. She's done everything for you since you found her. _

They lapsed into silence again. The only sound in the barn were the pills rattling in the bottles as he handed them to her. She set aside some painkillers and put the others into a pile to return to the pack. "We can take these back to Anne," she explained to him, though he'd already figured out why she was setting them aside.

"Hal?" she asked as evening settled in.

"Yeah?" he asked, putting a hand to his temple as a dizzy spell set in.

There was genuine fear in her eyes. "When do you think we'll make it back home?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But we'll figure it out…they'll find us. They're probably out looking for us now." He willed himself to believe his own words, for Lourdes' sake and his own. But realistically, Weaver had no fighters to spare searching for them. And it occurred to him that they had likely already be written off as dead. "We'll make it."

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this…"

"No," Hal cut her off before she could get any deeper into her self-blaming. "You went out looking for medicine—we've been over this. You were trying to help."

He could hear Karen's voice echoing in his head: _"She may have been trying to help, but look what she got you. What are Ben and Matt doing without you?" _He shook his head, regretting it when his head started buzzing again.

"You okay?" Lourdes asked, eyeing him concernedly. He nodded. "I was saying that I'm sorry for dragging you into this…you must miss your brothers like crazy…"

"I do," he laughed half-heartedly.

"And I'm sure they miss you too…"

He laughed genuinely now. "Maybe Matt…I'm sure Ben's probably going wild with being the oldest child by now…"

Her head tilted to one side. "You guys didn't get along?"

"Nah," Hal replied, drawing out the syllable. "We…tended to fight a lot. I guess we just…didn't have enough in common. He was into math and science and books and I was into…sports and stuff…I used to pick on him a lot. I…I just didn't realize how much I really needed Ben 'til after the skitters took him…"

Lourdes nodded understandingly. "But you got him back, and that's what's important."

"Yeah…What about you and your sister?" he asked.

"My sister and I…had a complicated relationship," she confessed. "We…didn't always see eye-to-eye."

"What happened?"

"She was fourteen…she was in that stage where she liked to argue over _everything_. We used to get into the stupidest fights…" her voice trailed off and her breath hitched. "We…we had just fought over the phone…the night before the invasion and…I hung up on her without…without saying goodbye…" The first tear fell onto her sleeve and Hal's look of complete understanding seemed to give her permission to continue crying. "I just…I wish that…that I had…said I was sorry…or at least…told her that I loved her…one more time…"

He had his arm around her shaking shoulder before he knew what he was doing. He just knew that she needed comforting. "It's…it's okay," he whispered, trying to calm her. He thought back to what people had said to him when his mom died. "She's…she's better off now—at least she doesn't need to see all the suffering or be afraid of being harnessed…"

"I tell myself that…over and over…" Lourdes sobbed. "And…I guess it's true but…"

"But you still wish she was here," Hal finished for her, continuing to hold her close. If he had been devastated by his mother's death, he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if he ever lost Ben or Matt. And Lourdes had lost everyone in her family…

"Yeah," she sniffled, running a sleeve under her nose. "I do," she turned to look at him but her expression suddenly shifted to concern and fright.

"Lourdes, what's wrong?"

"Hal! You're bleeding again!"

* * *

**A/N: Cue ominous music. We all know what comes next, right? Right? Care to speculate? In any event, I decided to play with Hal's conflicting emotions some more and keep the poor guy in suspense a bit longer (along with all of you). I'm gonna try to get these updates out during the day from now on, or at least earlier than normal. Example: it's currently 11:30. That's fairly early for me! Anyway, keep the reviews up because I love your reviews. And I'd like some feedback on Lourdes' back story, more of which will be revealed as we go on. Thanks so much! And if you like my work, follow me on Twitter at EbiPers so you can find out about updates first thing! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Aw my reviews dropped off :( Haha, it's all good—I appreciate reviews but I love you guys just the same regardless. We're jumping back into Lourdes' head for a bit, BUT we'll also go into Hal's head for a bit, too. So we get both points of view here! Now I know you aren't gonna like this but I'm already considering an endpoint for this story so I need to know now: when this does end, would you like a sequel or an entirely new series? I know that I'm going to do more with Hal and Lourdes to be certain, but do you want it to be consistent with this story or would you prefer an entirely fresh idea? I'll ask the question again at the end but I figured a preliminary poll-thingy would help me with planning out where this story goes from here. So I'd appreciate it if you either told me in a review OR you could always tweet to me (at EbiPers) and let me know. Thanks! Picking up where we left off now…**

* * *

Her heart slammed into her chest as terror gripped her—terror that if she didn't do something fast she could possibly lose Hal…_forever_.

"It's nothing," Hal insisted, turning away so she couldn't see any more.

"It's not nothing, Hal! Obviously it isn't healing properly. If I don't stitch that gash up soon it'll either get infected or you'll bleed out first!"

"There's nothing we can do now," he insisted.

"I could…"

"No, Lourdes!" he interjected forcefully. "You're not risking it and going back to that house alone!"

"Why not?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Because! It's…it's not safe…"

"I can do it!" she insisted, feeling like a small child being told _no_.

Hal sighed heavily. "I know you can, Lourdes. But promise me you won't. No matter what. The 2nd Mass needs you intact." There was a charged pause at the end of the sentence, like he wanted to say more.

She thought it over. _The 2__nd__ Mass does need you…but isn't Hal part of the 2__nd__ Mass? And he needs you more right now. _"Fine. I won't go back," she said, though she had no intention of making good on that particular promise.

"Promise?"

Lourdes nodded. "Promise." _So now you're lying to him? _It wasn't a good feeling. She'd lied to people before: her parents, her sister, but it had been so, _so _long since she'd ever had cause to lie to someone. And it was doubly unsettling to her that the person she was lying to was Hal Mason, who she cared so much about. But it was justified because his health depended on it. And she knew he wouldn't let her out of his sight if she voiced her intentions to go back. So she had to lie. She _had _to. Because the alternative was losing him. And she couldn't bear to lose him. Especially not after what they'd been through.

Hal seemed satisfied with the promise, applying pressure to the region and grinning, though it was obvious it hurt him. "See? The bleeding's probably stopped by now anyway…"

"Yeah," she agreed half-heartedly, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "Probably…you know we should probably rest. If the skitters find out we're here we'll…need all our energy…"

Hal nodded thoughtfully after a few moments, then rose. "Loft looks comfy," he joked. "Lots of straw…wood…"

"I…think I should stay down here," she replied. "Because of my leg," she added quickly to justify it.

"Ok…we could stay down here. I just thought that maybe you'd be more comfortable up there—I could carry you up, you know."

The thought of being in Hal Mason's arms again was very, _very _inviting, but Lourdes quickly reminded herself that she would need to remain on the ground in order to sneak back to the house. "It's okay…I don't want you straining yourself."

He laughed at this. "C'mon, you aren't _that _heavy…"

"Just…please…" she held up a hand. "I'll…I'll be fine. But if you'd be more comfortable in the loft…"

"Nope," Hal replied, sitting cross-legged beside her. "If you're staying here then so am I."

_Great. _It wasn't that she didn't want Hal to be near her—quite the opposite, actually—but the closer he was to her, the easier it would be for him to hear her. And stop her. But what could she do? She simply nodded mutely. "I'm going to go to sleep," she finally said, rising and quickly tripping over the night gown that was still bunching at her feet. Because she had been on the wheelbarrow and off her feet most of the day it hadn't mattered. _But now it's just going to slow you down._

"Hal? Can I see your knife for a minute?"

"Uh…sure," he looked at her confusedly as he handed the blade over to her.

"The night gown…it keeps tripping me…" she turned away modestly as she cut away a good portion of the sleeping garment, so that it now appeared much shorter than the clothes she was used to wearing. _What else are you going to need to make this escape easier? _"Could you hand me some of those ace bandages…and maybe a loose floorboard or something? I'd like to re-set my leg…"

Hal complied and, as he assisted her, said in a seemingly joking voice: "planning on sneaking out, are you?"

She laughed self-consciously. "No…I just…want everything to be set…just in case."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He backed away when her leg was fully set.

"Thanks, Hal. I owe you…" _And I plan to repay you pretty soon, too._

He snorted. "By the time this whole thing's over, I'm pretty sure we'll be even."

"Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

Hal watched Lourdes curl up in a corner of the barn near the door before lying down on the concrete floor nearby. Her even breathing told him that she had fallen asleep but he was still lying awake for some reason. His head hurt ridiculously and though he'd brushed it off, he knew he was still bleeding. _Dammit, Hal! You can't let her risk going back there…even if it means you won't make it back to camp. _

When he suggested they go up to the loft, he'd been hurt by her refusal. _You really screwed things up—she doesn't even want to be near you anymore. _But he had no intention of letting Lourdes go. She was the only thing that had made this whole excursion bearable and he was certain that, had it been anyone else, he likely would've felt bitter about it all. But Lourdes…she was doing as much for him as he was for her. And despite her protests, she really was quite brave. She looked out for her own. _Just like Karen…_And the more he considered it now, the more he realized that Lourdes and Karen really weren't that different from each other. At least not in that sense. _But you'll never find out anything more now, will you? Not after telling her it was a mistake to kiss her. How could you have been so stupid as to think that an apology would just automatically fix everything?_

The truth was, he'd actually enjoyed that kiss. It felt…right, comfortable, like they'd been doing it forever. And that frightened him. Because Karen was still out there somewhere, and he hurt her by kissing Lourdes. _But you also hurt Lourdes by rejecting her…_

Sleep couldn't come soon enough, if only to get him out of his own head. The pain was still there and every so often, even with his eyes closed, he felt like the whole room was spinning. The thought was ever-present in his mind that if he didn't find a way to make the bleeding stop, he'd probably die there. He woke with a start as the thought occurred to him in his sleep. _No, Hal! You can't just give up like this. Maybe Lourdes can't go back to that house but you can! Ben and Matt need you. Dad needs you to watch out for them 'til he gets back. And maybe Lourdes doesn't need you anymore but you should at least be there to get her back to camp! _He resolved to head back to the house himself, fetch whatever supplies they still needed, and make it back to the barn. If he hurried, he could probably make it back just after sunup. Lourdes was still rolled on her side, her breathing deep and even. Silently, he slid his knife into her hand, got up, and crept toward the barn door, wincing as it made a slow creak. But Lourdes didn't stir and he slipped out into the brisk night air.

* * *

Lourdes awoke with a start. _How long was I asleep? _There was an object clenched in her right hand and she immediately recognized it to be the handle of Hal's knife. Which meant…_no! No, no, no, no, no! _She rolled over quickly, panic seizing her as she saw the vacant spot where Hal had been lying.

"Hal?" Her voice echoed through the barn but there was no reply. "Hal?" She mentally cursed herself for falling asleep. _He went back to get the supplies so you wouldn't have to. Good job, Lourdes. _She was on her feet faster than she could process, easing the barn door open and gripping the knife in her hand as she slipped out and shut the door behind her. She had to get those supplies. But first she had to find Hal…

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter, I know, but it's a transition chapter to set up the action for later. It's pretty obvious where I'm headed with this but I hope you'll stick around anyhow. Like I said, once this story comes to a close I need to know if you want a sequel or an entirely new series. I have ideas for both but I can only grant one at a time. So let me know in a review or tweet to me at EbiPers. Again, your readership is much appreciated. I'm sorry for the long delay: my grandmother had a pretty bad fall that she's recover from so we went to go see her. Plus I'm volunteering at my church's bible camp so that eats up time as well. But I'll try to be quick with the updates. There's gonna be tons of action coming up so buckle up! **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, I've returned again! So far the camps for sequel vs. new series are pretty evenly tied so I've decided to end this story in a way that leaves it open for a sequel that combines ideas from my proposed new series. (Got that?) Anyway, I've sufficiently confused myself but you'll see. Since we're approaching the climax soon it can't be long now. I envision capping out at about 10 or 12 chapters before we move on. Enough of the chatter. Read and review because I will love you forever if you do :D Oh and here's a quote for ya—I think it applies to these two: **_**"And it's me who is my enemy, me who beats me up, me who makes the monsters, me who strips my confidence, and it's me who is too weak and it's me who is too shy to ask for the thing I love." **_**Anyway, nice distraction but get to the reading now :P**

* * *

As Lourdes trudged through the field, her newly set leg limping along, her fear mounted. _Hal's out there somewhere, in jeopardy because _you _fell asleep! What if you can't find him? _What _if _she couldn't find him? What would she do then? Panic settled in, much stronger than she had felt before. She depended on Hal, _needed _him there to protect her, to make her feel safe, or even just to talk to her. And if she couldn't find him, well, she wouldn't ever be able to forgive herself. _Because it's _your _fault he went missing. If you weren't so afraid of everything he wouldn't have gone out there to get what you needed. He cares so much about you and all you've done for him is nearly getting him killed. _

The fields were dark, still, _lifeless_ and intimidating. Every time the wind picked up even slightly she whipped around, expecting to come face to face with a skitter. Hal's knife was clutched tightly in her right hand. _He doesn't even have a weapon to defend himself with. _

The moon was out, casting a pale white glow over everything. When she was young, she loved the moon. It was like a natural nightlight that filtered in through the curtains as she lay in bed. But the moon was the enemy now, exposing her, illuminating her every move so that anyone or any_thing _observing her could easily see what she was doing. For once in her life, she found herself wishing the moon _away_. _Just keep calm, keep moving toward the house_.

It suddenly occurred to her that with Hal's dizzy spells he may have gotten lost without knowing it. _Or passed out_. And the fact that she had no idea what kind of trauma the injury had caused him just heightened her fear. But there was nothing she could do. If she started scouring the fields now there was a good chance she'd get lost. _And you're no use to Hal if you're lost too. _So she resolved to go back to the house, all the while praying Hal would already be there so that she could promptly stitch up the gash and then scold him. _Or kiss him_.

_No!_ She physically shook her head to clear the thought from her mind. _It was one time, just ONE time! He'd never want to kiss you again—he's obviously had so much better than you before. Besides, you're far from an instigator. And he still loves Karen…_

She gasped, bit her tongue to keep from screaming as she came face-to-face with the human form in the middle of the field, swinging the knife around to shield her face. The moon was now fully concealed by the clouds and she suddenly wished she hadn't prayed for it to disappear. She felt stupid when she realized that the figure was only a scarecrow, desolate and alone in the middle of the night. _Just like me_. It was something so ordinary, innocuous. She'd seen them all the time during the autumn, especially in October or whenever her family drove in to Salem. But here, in the night, it was unnerving to look at with eyes that were gleaming and empty like…like a dead body. _Stop! Don't think like that. You aren't dead and neither is Hal. You'll find a way out of this. _

The scarecrow brought with it a welcome revelation, though. She recalled Hal mentioning something about a scarecrow after his first venture out into the fields. Which meant the house couldn't be too far. Sure enough, she could just make out the house's roof above the tall weeds. Hal had to be there. He just _had _to be. She hadn't come across him at all during her trek. Which meant he had to be here. She didn't want to even consider for a moment that he might not be, that he might be dazedly wandering the fields miles away from her current position. So she told herself that he was inside, just waiting for her to catch up. _Nice fantasy, Lourdes, but let's see if it comes true. _

The first thing she spotted as she approached the house was the makeshift grave. The cross was still there, sagging after a day exposed to the elements, but the bodies _weren't_. Which meant the skitters had come back for their dead. _Do they bury them like we do? Do they have funerals? Do they mourn for their casualties? _She secretly hoped not, hoped that some wild animal had just dragged the bodies away because the conflicting, torturous feelings of killing them were still fresh in her memory, in her heart. And if they buried their dead, it only humanized them further. Driven by a morbid fascination, perhaps simply trying to put her mind at ease, she approached the site cautiously, dismayed at the drag marks that lasted only a few feet. Whatever had retrieved the bodies had only dragged them a few feet before presumably picking them up. _Which means they did carry them off. _

Unable to bear standing at the place any longer, Lourdes moved as swiftly as she could toward the porch, surprised that her leg hadn't given her any trouble about the overuse yet. She chalked it up to adrenaline again. The porch creaked under her weight and she froze, glancing about nervously, fearing that something had just been alerted to her presence. She waited a minute…two…three…nothing came. As she approached the front door she spotted something out of place. The storm door to the porch had always been missing but she _knew _that the front door had been there when they last left. Now, it had been torn from its hinges and replaced in a sloppy attempt to make things appear normal once more.

She could feel the sweat beginning to bead up on her brow as she nervously glanced around, spotting nothing. _But that doesn't mean there isn't something watching you…_And now she found herself in a dilemma. Because something had been inside that house. And there was a high probability that it was still there. But _who _or _what _was it that had been there. If it was Hal then there were no problems, nothing to worry about. But if it was a skitter…

She stood there, unable to move forward as fear slowly began to overtake her. If she stepped into that house and it turned out to be a trap, it would all be over for her. But more importantly, Hal probably wouldn't make it without the stitches. And yet, if she _didn't _enter, Hal still wouldn't make it. _You have to do this, Lourdes. You have to make it right. You have to make sure that he makes it back to his brothers. And you have to do it because…_

She knew there was a reason, _one _other reason that she had to do this. And it wasn't because she wanted to be brave. No, Hal had affirmed the fact that she was brave and that's all she needed on the matter. But what was this other reason that she couldn't conjure? Or maybe couldn't admit? The conflicting emotions, the mounting fear, the amount at stake—all of it was making her head spin, rooting her to the spot. _One way or another, your life could change if you set foot in that house, Lourdes. _

But she was ready. She had to be ready. Because her future was at stake, Hal's future was at stake—Hal himself was at stake. _If he's in there, you'll stitch him up and get out. And if he's not, grab what you need and find him. _A plan began to take shape in her mind, something new to her because she had never been one for military strategies. She wasn't even one for a game of chess. But this instinct of survival was powerful, frightening. Suddenly, she could see all the exit and entry points of the home, ingrained in her subconscious from having navigated the structure's halls and rooms. She could see where skitters were likely to hide. And she had figured out multiple escape routes should it turn out to be a trap. She was geared up to make it, because she was determined to make sure Hal made it. After all, he was the only reason she herself had made it.

Slowly, cautiously she crept forward, wincing at each creak the floorboards made. She pushed the door back slowly, leaning it against its frame and hoisting herself into the darkened home. It still smelled musty and unlived in. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and she could see around her. The furniture was in a state of chaos, having been flipped every which way. Cabinets hung off their hinges. Something had torn the place up! And she could only assume that it was a skitter, or skitter_s_, seeking to avenge their dead companions. And now she could have just walked into their trap.

Lourdes' fist tightened around the knife as she silently, stealthily stole toward the staircase, glancing over her shoulder each time, certain she would come face-to-face with one of the horrifying aliens. Her leg felt heavy as she dragged it along, her gait unsteady. The stairs presented a unique challenge and she found herself hoisting herself up the steps, hugging the banister and hoping that nothing would catch her in such a vulnerable position.

The upstairs rooms didn't look much better than the ones downstairs. The bedroom in which she and Hal had stayed was torn apart, the bed flipped upside down and the dresser tipped over. Most hauntingly of all, glinting in the pale moonlight that was still partially obstructed by clouds, lay the silver picture frame, a crack down the center. She bent down and scooped it up quickly, tucking it beneath her arm. She couldn't let those people—their memories—just slip away into obscurity. She reached the end of the hallway, the linen closet door ripped from its hinges in a manner similar to the front door. The shelves were torn off the wall but it didn't appear that the skitters had taken anything. Not that she'd left much for them to take—mostly cotton swabs and towels.

Slowly, painstakingly, she began to sift through the strewn supplies, praying for a needle and some thread—something that she could stitch Hal's wounds up with until they could reach camp. Then, Anne would take over and perform a full medical evaluation on his condition. _He just needs to make it! _It took a tremendous amount of effort to search quietly and not huff in frustration when the results were not ideal.

_Please, God. Please! Just provide me a needle and some thread! Help me to help others like You put me here to do! Help me to help Hal! Please!_

A sharp cry of joy emitted from her throat before she could fully stifle it. There, in a small, plastic box with a clear lid, was a sewing kit. She never thought anything could be more beautiful. _Thank you, God! _She rose slowly, using her free hand to grip the wall and keep her from falling over and then she dragged herself down the hallway. As she was about to go downstairs, she glanced down at the cut-up nightgown. _You could use a change of clothes…But that's stealing. _Hal's words suddenly came back to her. _Not stealing, just borrowing. Please forgive me._

The closet in the largest bedroom turned up some more clothing, a bit too large for her but certainly not as bad as the nightgown had been. She donned a pair of cargo shorts, slipping the sewing kit into the pocket on her right hand side. She then slipped on a t-shirt and denim jacket. Without a second thought, she pulled a few more articles of clothing from the closet racks. _Hal could probably use something a bit warmer to wear…_

She silently said a prayer of thanks to God and thanked the homeowners aloud, though she was well aware that they weren't around to hear it. She dragged her way down the stairs, the clothes slung over her shoulder and the picture frame in her left hand. She paused in the kitchen, remembering the lack of light in the barn. _The matches are…in that drawer! _Lourdes moved to the drawer as quickly as possible, triumphantly pulling the matchbox out. Deciding it would be useful, she struck a match proudly, turning to leave. But the sight that greeted her made her drop the clothes and photo frame, and even the match, which went out as it hit the cold tile. Because standing right in front of her was a skitter. And it had a chilling red eye…

* * *

**A/N: Climax approaching! Couldn't resist writing in red-eye. So how was this? Wondering what happened to Hal? Or what **_**will **_**happen to Lourdes? Guess we'll find out next chapter. I love your reviews. They make me feel all warm and happy and stuff like that. So please leave reviews. I like to feel happy :D And the next chapter will be up soon. FYI: I'm debating on titles for the sequel already. But I won't offer spoilers quite yet so I'm not gonna give you the names I'm considering. Or maybe that's just because I'm evil muahahahahahahaha. Either way, can't wait to hear what you guys think of this chapter so kindly leave a review in the little box thingy below. Love you all and good night! **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey guys! Decided to update now because tomorrow, in honor of Independence Day here in America, my family is taking an impromptu road trip. I'm not sure where we're going (it's a surprise) or when we'll be back, but I'll probably post a few tweets along the way so if you're curious then follow me (at EbiPers) and I'll probably post a pic or two when I get back. Anyway, long story short, I'll be roadtripping someplace tomorrow so…yeah. Hopefully it'll be someplace inspiring. (Boston, perhaps? ;) In any event, hope you're enjoying this so far. It looks like I'll probably end up nearer to 12 chapters instead of 10, this being chapter 9 and all. Not that you're complaining, right? And at the end of this chapter I'll post my sequel name candidates. Let me know if you have a favorite! And review. I kind of live off of reviews. And coffee. But mostly reviews.**

* * *

_Lourdes moved to the drawer as quickly as possible, triumphantly pulling the matchbox out. Deciding it would be useful, she struck a match proudly, turning to leave. But the sight that greeted her made her drop the clothes and photo frame, and even the match, which went out as it hit the cold tile. Because standing right in front of her was a skitter. And it had a chilling red eye…_

She screamed once, loudly, and then the creature had its hand clasped around her neck, lifting her off the ground and cutting the sound off before she could scream any louder, any further. Terror gripped her as dark spots began to form in her vision. The creature squealed at her and she found herself staring into its red eye, much deeper and stranger than any skitter eye she'd ever seen. It seemed to her like a void, sucking her in. _Or maybe it's just the darkness closing in around you_. She was gasping for breath that just wouldn't come, the hold on her windpipe far too strong to squirm out of. _This is it! It's all over now_. She had been so convinced she was going to make it, so determined to get back to camp. She hadn't considered dying in days…not since Hal had found her on the side of the road where she had first decided to make her peace.

"I'm…I'm sorry…Hal…" her voice was ragged, forced through the constricting of her throat. The blackness was claiming her now and with dismay she realized that she wouldn't be able to help Hal now, wouldn't be able to stitch up the wound. A thousand regrets swam through her mind and suddenly it came to her with crystal clarity, the one other reason she had to help Hal. _Because you _love _him. Because _I _love him…_The black claimed her, but the last sensation she felt was of the skitter _letting go_.

* * *

_Where am I? _Hal rubbed his temple gingerly, felt the dried, crusted blood that had stopped his bleeding temporarily. _But how much longer will it last before it starts bleeding all over again? _He was still dizzy, still faint, and he realized he must have passed out en route to the house. He stood up quickly, checking the sky. _Still dark. So…you couldn't have been out for too long. Unless it's been a whole day. _But that was improbable. It was still night. _To_night. And he could still make it to that house and pick up the supplies before Lourdes even discovered he was missing. He broke into a run, ignoring the blurred surroundings, the dizziness. _Gotta get to the house. Gotta get those supplies. _

His teachers always told him he was focused. _He's just not focused on the right things_, they were fond of telling his parents, who would stifle smirks and try to level disapproving glares at him because they _knew _all of that already. He was driven on the sports field, his reflexes sharp, and once he had a goal in mind it would take the forces of heaven and hell combined to stop him. And tonight, right now, his goal was to get what Lourdes wanted and get back before sunup. It would appease her, and she had much more to worry about than him. More important things.

He didn't want to be the one thing worrying her right now. He couldn't afford to be the one thing worrying her right now. So he ran. He ran with more strength than he knew he had in him. His footsteps were loud, his breathing labored, and still he ran. He ran for necessity, he ran for the healing supplies he needed, and he ran for Lourdes, so that she wouldn't have to be out here, risking her own life.

_Why do you care so much? _She was an innocent girl in all of this. She deserved this whole invasion crap least of all. There's no way he would let her risk it all for him. It wasn't her job. He wasn't her concern. For a minute, though, Ben's voice took over in his head, the same taunting note he remembered from when they were just a little bit younger. _You like her, Hal. _It was a childish, singsong voice. _You like Lourdes. _No, he shook his head. _Yeah you do._ Matt's voice._ You kissed her! _He resented the voices but held on to them because damn did he really miss his brothers right now! _I don't like her. I don't think I do…we're just…we're friends. And we've been brought together in all of this but I do _not _like her like that. _Ben's voice resumed in his mind, this time much older and more mature—more like the way he sounded now. _Sure. But you'll come around, Hal. She's good for you_.

Hal stopped. _She's good for me? _If he paused to think about it, he supposed that was a fair assessment. She was there to stitch up his wounds and take care of him, after all. She cooked, she made sure he was looked after…and she was pretty fearless with a gun too. _Maybe she is good for me. _Ben's voice taunted him once more. _Told ya so_. He rubbed a tired hand down his face. _Damn, I need to get more sleep...I'm just tired. And dizzy. _He pressed onward but halted suddenly when he glanced down.

_No. _A swatch of fabric, negligible if it weren't for the pattern. The pattern he recognized. _No, no, no! _It was the same print as the nightgown he'd picked out of the closet for Lourdes that night. He tried to convince himself that it had fallen off when they fled the house the first time. _She's still in the barn, fast asleep. She has no idea you came out here. _But there was no way the scrap of fabric could have fallen off on their first escape. The gown hadn't even been ripped until she cut it away. Which meant…s_he came out here to find you. _He was an idiot! Of course she would come out here to find him! It all made sense now—she had never intended to stay in the barn. She had every intent to retrieve the supplies anyway. _That's _why she slept so close to the door. _That's _why she had cut away the bottom piece of the nightgown. _That's _why she had asked him to help her re-set her leg. Admiration and fear rose up in his chest. He had to admire that girl's bravery, her gumption. He had to admire the way she looked out for those she cared about. But he feared for her too. Because no matter how brave she was, no matter how hard she tried, she was still in grave danger out there. And with only a knife to protect herself with, he realized he had to find her quick. _She could need your help. _

He broke into a faster run now, driven by his need to find Lourdes, make sure she was safe. He followed the path of weeds that had been pushed down—a clear sign that someone had recently passed by there. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when he came face-to-face with a horrific, humanoid figure in the middle of the field, calming down and feeling sheepish when he realized it was just the scarecrow. _Dammit! I knew that thing was gonna be trouble_. But the scarecrow meant the house couldn't be far now. He had to stand on tiptoe but he could see the house through the field. He ran for it, new hope seizing him. _Hopefully she'll just be reaching there now and you can stop her._

He wasn't sure _what _he would do once he did find her. Scold her? Hug her? Apologize? All of the above? He just knew that he _had _to get to her. He had a bad feeling. The porch was still the same and he bounded up the steps quickly, freezing in his tracks when he spotted the door leaning up against its frame. _Someone's been here already_. He hoped it was Lourdes but he knew it couldn't be. She wouldn't just rip the door off its hinges. Apprehension filled him. What if she had been taken? _Oh God, what if she was harnessed? _Could he really live with himself if another girl was harnessed on his watch, harnessed due to his own inability to protect her.

A shrill scream shook him from his thoughts, ripped his eyes to the house once more. It was a scream of fear, of pain, of desperation. And it was definitely, _definitely _Lourdes' scream. Any apprehension that he had suddenly drained from him and he charged into the house, well aware of how ferociously unequipped he was but completely uncaring because Lourdes was in danger. She needed help. He stepped into the kitchen and spotted an unnerving sight.

The skitter…it had dropped Lourdes to the ground when it heard him enter. She was pale, crumpled in a heap. It turned to face him and he caught sight of a horrific, red eye unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The alien made an intimidating noise and lunged for him. He narrowly sidestepped the creature's attack, ducking as it collided with the nearby wall. Hal scrambled to the kitchen counter, seizing the first knife he found and hurling it at the creature. He missed, seized another knife, and threw that one too. This one caught the skitter in the arm and it fell to the ground with an outraged noise, wounded but certainly far from dead. He caught it with a third knife, just to cripple it and ensure it couldn't go anywhere.

_You can't keep fighting it. You'll waste too much energy. _He spotted the clothing on the ground near Lourdes' feet and grabbed the belt off a pair of pants, using it to truss up the thrashing alien. Growing weary of its squealing, he stuffed a shirt into its mouth. And then, taking in the sight of Lourdes' limp form, he suddenly felt rage bubbling up in him. And he hit the creature. Dammit, he hit that creature hard, punching it repeatedly until he felt tears of rage stinging the back of his eyes and still he hit it. And it couldn't cry out but he didn't care.

"That's for Ben!" he was practically screaming. "And that's for all those kids you killed!" He sent a kick to the creature's torso. "And that's for taking my dad." He sent one more kick, this one sending the skitter within an inch of its life. "And that's for Lourdes you worthless bastard!" But for some reason he didn't kill the alien. _You wanted to make me a messenger? Well take this message back to _your _people. _

Hal rushed to Lourdes' side now, wiping the angry tears and the skitter blood from his face. He knew that the gash had reopened but he ignored it, feeling the side of the girl's neck for a pulse, relieved when he felt an encouraging beating there. Her neck was bruised and reddened by the alien's death grip.

"Lourdes," he whispered, desperation seizing him when she didn't respond or rouse. "Lourdes!" _Oh God. _"Lourdes!" Still the girl lay limp and he felt the stinging sensation and his vision began to blur. "Lourdes!" He turned, caught sight of the skitter watching him through its bloodied face. It looked indifferent. "You bastard!" he cursed it. "Look what you did!" It lay back, then, looking almost surreal, and if he didn't want to send a clear message to those sons-of-bitches that had come here and done all this, he would have killed it right then and there.

"Lourdes, please!" It was a desperate plea now. He didn't know what he would do without her. Whatever they were to each other, it was strong. They'd forged a bond through the adversity they'd faced together. And now, to lose her, it would be devastating. He found a chain on the ground, containing beads. He recognized it to be the necklace Lourdes often fingered in times of stress or difficulty. A rosary.

And Hal Mason found himself doing something he never imagined doing again. He was _praying_. _Dear God, please don't take her from me. I don't know why You put us here together. I don't even know why this invasion had to happen, but Lourdes believes You have a plan. And I believe too. Just please, please let her wake up. _

He dredged up the one prayer he could remember from those rare occasions he actually paid attention in church. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name." It was a frantic whisper at first but as he held Lourdes' hand now, clutching her rosary beads in the other, he felt his voice gaining strength. Almost like he was shouting it now, to make sure that Lourdes, and God, and every damn skitter alive could hear him. "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us…" he broke off, suddenly losing strength as he looked at Lourdes' still face, watched the uneventful rise and fall of her chest. Her breaths were shallow, which was never an encouraging sign.

"Forgive us our trespasses…" He looked suddenly to her face once more, saw her lips moving but he was unable to process it. "As we forgive those who trespass against us…" Her eyes fluttered open and he was never more glad to see the color brown in his life.

"And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil…" His face was split by a grin now, uncontrollable and unshakeable.

"Lourdes…" he whispered, suddenly feeling so, _so _glad to have her nearby and coherent.

"Hal…" she smiled back weakly, trying to rise but he pushed her back down slowly.

"You scared the crap out of me," he tried to scold but his elation crept into his words. "Thought I lost you there for a second."

"I thought I was lost…"

He scooped her up now, grateful to have her close to him. "Never." It was a silent oath, a promise that he would _never _let her get herself into a situation like this again.

"How many times are we going to do this?" Lourdes asked.

"What?"

"Saving each other. How many times is that going to happen?"

He had to laugh now. "Like I said, by the time this is all over we'll call it even."

He walked past the skitter, lying there, and he glared at it defiantly. A shiver ran down Lourdes' body as she made eye-contact with it once more. "You see?" he said to the alien. "You can't kill us all. We're gonna kick you sons of bitches off our planet one way or another." He spotted the weapon lying on the ground and retrieved it. It was a gun. More specifically, it was _his _gun. And rage boiled within him once more. It wasn't good enough that these things were killing off his friends and family, or at least trying to? But now they were taking trophies too? Keeping their weapons? What gave them the right? And he swore that the thing was gloating, laughing at him.

"Hal?" Lourdes' voice was timid. His jaw set. "Hal?"

He set her down gently, stooped down on the kitchen floor and retrieved the matches.

"Hal? What are you doing?"

"Let's go," his voice was hard, determined, and he scooped her up once more, carrying her out. Once they were off the steps he turned, struck a match, and threw it onto the porch, watching as the dry wood caught fire. He saw the look of fear in Lourdes' eyes and suddenly regretted it. But he _had _to send a signal to these aliens, tell them that this wasn't their planet, that they couldn't try to hurt his loved ones and expect to get away with it. Besides, if there was one skitter here then there were likely a few more nearby. They'd reach red-eye in time. And he'd have one hell of a story to relate to them.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Did you get the needle and thread?" His voice was softer now, calming down from the rush of anger that had seized him.

"Of course," Lourdes' voice was small, timid. "Wh-when we get back to the barn I'll stitch you up."

Hal nodded, looking up at the sky and seeing a faint, rosy glow on the horizon. "We better get moving," he declared. "Sun's coming up."

"I can walk." It wasn't a request, wasn't a question. It was resolute fact.

He set her down slowly. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"Lourdes?"

"Yeah?" she looked at him shyly, timidly as they started to move, a wall of flame slowly engulfing the house's porch.

He didn't think, just leant down and pressed a kiss to her lips. This one wasn't soft, gentle, it was full of elation and energy and pent-up feelings and…so many feelings he couldn't place. And when he pulled away her lips were swollen and her pupils dilated and for a minute everything seemed to spin. "I'm glad to have you back."

* * *

**A/N: So Hal and Lourdes seem to keep swapping places saving each other, huh? Just so you know, I'm moving this in line with season 2, meaning the happy resolution you MAY be searching for won't be happening yet. Not fully. But I just had to give them another kiss. It was overdue and he's feeling so confused at this point. Also, I felt like Hal needed to release some of his pent-up rage. And the skitter was a good target, though the adverse effect (as we saw) may be scaring Lourdes. In any event, here are the sequel titles I'm considering. Tell me if you have a favorite:**

_**Too Cold Outside for Angels to Fly**_

_**Another Planet's Hell**_

_**Half a Sorrow**_

_**Broken Wings**_

_**The Land of Tears**_

_**Raindrops**_

_**When It All Comes Crashing Down**_

_**The Fallout **_

**So they're all pretty interrelated. Let me know which (if any) you prefer—they all have some relevance to the sequel so fear not. I may even offer a teaser at the end of this series, but only if you behave and review ;) Seriously, do it. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello all! So we didn't take our road trip today. The East Coast is being pounded with a merciless heat wave this week and temperatures were set to reach 107 degrees Fahrenheit (42 degrees centigrade)! So, because we value our lives, we decided to have some quality family time instead and postpone roadtripping it up for another time. Anyway, found some free time and decided to carry on. This story's coming to a close so I'm now focusing on building up the drama a bit as a lead-up into the sequel. Hopefully you'll follow me over to that one as well. The name is still up-in-the-air (see last chapter) so if you like any one in particular let me know! That said, let's get down to it. And to all my wonderful American readers: Happy 4****th**** of July (even if it is technically past midnight!)**

**PS: Just an FYI: 'Caz Hall' (mentioned below) is one of the student residences at Wellesley College. Yeah that's right: Ebi does his research :D**

* * *

_Oh. My. God. _Three words. Three words that barely managed to form in her head because _God _was that an amazing experience. Spontaneous, unexplained, _passionate_. Hal's lips against hers and she was barely coherent after that. And then the emotions started crashing into her, one at a time.

The _fear_ came first. Fear of _everything _that had just occurred. She was certain she was about to die in that house, with the skitter strangling her. She could still feel its grip on her neck, as if it had burnt its touch into her flesh. And then, from nowhere it seemed, Hal had been there, whispering her name, _praying_. And then she watched him attack the alien and now she wasn't sure if she should be afraid of him too. _If he can do that to a skitter, what could he do to another human being? _The wall of fire continued to burn behind her, continued to consume the dried-up wood of the porch. She could smell the smoke in the air, thick and hazy like the night of the invasion, when she was in her dorm room and she could smell Caz Hall burning just like that porch was now.

It was an overpowering sense, flashing back to that time, hearing the screams of the other girls as they peered out at the blue lights and the explosions. Hal said something but his voice…it was so far away now, his face slowly dissolving into the air as she could suddenly see the frenzied looks of her roommates. She watched it all over again—the windows blowing in, exterior walls disintegrating into dust. She was running now, screaming for her life, trying desperately to find her car and get the _hell _out. But the explosions…_God_ the explosions were everywhere and she saw people she knew laying dead around campus—professors, club members…all just gone. And then there were the objects—bikes, cars, mailboxes—flipping everywhere, burning, falling to the ground with horrific crashes and she was screaming, _screaming _for help that just _wouldn't _come…

"Lourdes!" Hal's grip was viselike, clutching her close and the vision of his face slowly swam into focus once more. "Lourdes, what's wrong?"

The tears stung her eyes, blurred her vision.

"Lourdes? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" His fingertips ghosted across her leg, trying to feel through the splint if anything else had been broken. "What'd that skitter do to you?"

"N-not…not the skitters…" She was clawing at the ground now, desperately trying to get up. Trying to get away from the smells that were just too familiar and overpowering with everything else that had gone on that night.

"Then what?" he looked concerned.

"The…the fire…it's just…oh my God it's-it's too much…" she collapsed against him, her full weight coming to rest in his arms and she felt comforted that he didn't push her away, instead drawing her closer to his chest where it was warm and safe. She cried shamelessly, openly, felt her tears dripping down her face and dampening his shirt, the skin of his neck.

"I'm so, so sorry…" his voice was laced with more regret than she'd ever heard out of him. "I just…I lost it back there and…I…" there was a crack in his voice and for the first time she realized how much of a toll these past few days must have taken on him, too.

She shook her head. "It's not your fault…"

One by one, more emotions began washing over her. _Love_. _Adoration_. Hal came back for her! And he was still here, now. He was still holding her, still sheltering her. And he may have lost his head back there but he was motivated by the need to _protect _her. Whatever he was to her, and whatever she was to him, he had cared enough not to abandon her. She really needed that.

But that fear, that ever-present fear was still burning in the back of her mind. And she couldn't shake the horrific images of that night from her mind. Not while the heat and the orange glow of the flames still danced across her vision, ingraining itself into her senses, etching itself into her memory.

"We gotta get a move on," Hal said to her, his voice low, hoarse. "That skitter's friends will be here any minute." He didn't wait for her to say anything more, just picked her up and carried her on. Just a few minutes ago she had protested, desperately wanting to get _away _from Hal. But why? _He'll do that to as many skitters as he can, but he'll never do that to you. _But she was still just as nervous as he walked with her. She could feel his newly-reclaimed gun resting against her leg, swinging as he walked.

She wasn't sure when she dozed off, but she wasn't entirely surprised. In his arms she felt secure, taken care of. _Nothing can hurt you here_. And even the weight of the gun swinging side to side began to feel comforting, the sound of Hal's feet crunching through the dried up weeds, leaving behind the harrowing memories of what had just occurred.

Finally, as daylight broke and the sun began to peek up, plumes of smoke still billowing in the far distance, they reached the safety of the barn. He roused her gently, shaking her slowly in his arms until her eyelids fluttered open and she squinted at the sunlight. Hal set her down momentarily, sliding back the door and helping her inside. "Welcome home," he said, a note of dry humor in his voice.

In the familiar, musty space her mind began to clear and she immediately drew the sewing kit from her pocket. "Here…light a lantern and I'll stitch your gash up once and for all." Her voice had taken its professional tone, the one that never ceased to amaze her because no matter how emotionally invested she was in the situation she always sounded so _detached _and _impersonal_. But Hal complied.

"Lie back," she commanded. A smirk found its way across his features as he lay down and she slowly unwound the gauze. It was sticking to his forehead. "This could hurt a little…" He grunted in pain as she ripped the gauze away but she knew he was doing his best. She made it a point to tell him exactly what she was doing, hoping that maybe it would put him at ease. _More like put _yourself_ at ease_. "Wow…that…that's pretty bad," she murmured.

Hal tried to laugh it off. "Just a flesh wound."

"Okay, I'm going to disinfect it now," she almost winced at what his reaction would likely be. "And it _will _sting." She took one of the disinfectant swabs and dabbed at the crusted blood and dirt. He released short hisses of pain. "Sorry," she apologized ruefully.

"Stop…enjoying this…so much…" he hissed out, though the humor in his tone was still evident despite the agony this had to be causing him.

She found herself smirking too, unable to control it. "Shut up," she giggled. "And hold still." She had the needle threaded now and slowly began to sew the gash shut, praying that it wouldn't become infected. It was painstaking labor given the dim light and the look of pain on Hal's face. She wished she had a local anesthetic to give him but this wasn't a hospital or a med lab. This was field medicine. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and looked him over briefly. "That should hold until we get back to the 2nd Mass. Anne will probably do a much better job than I ever could."

"Nah," Hal said. "You did a good job—it feels good as new. Thanks."

She cast her eyes down again, suddenly shy. "You're welcome."

Hal slowly rose on his elbows as she began to pack up the supplies, feeling like a huge weight was lifted off of her chest now that his wound would finally stop bleeding once and for all.

"So what was that back there?"

"Huh?" she looked to him confusedly as she slipped the sewing kit into her pack, which had remained by the door where she last left it. She hoped he didn't want to discuss the kiss. She really didn't want to talk about it, would prefer to discuss _anything _besides it because the conflicting, intense emotions would only make her head spin right now.

"Last night…you started screaming and crying…what happened?"

"Oh." She felt the heat rising in her cheeks and was grateful for the dim light so that he couldn't see it. She was suddenly regretting wishing to discuss _anything _besides the kiss. "It was nothing…"

"That wasn't _nothing_, Lourdes, you were terrified."

_He reads you like a book. _"I was just…scared. That's all."

Hal shook his head. "I've seen you scared—that wasn't it. It was almost like the fire had something to do with it. You kept looking at the burning house and trying to get away-you were _terrified_."

Terrified summed it up pretty well and the emotions rose quickly in her chest. "When I was at Wellesley and the invasion happened the dorm was on fire, okay?" She knew her voice was much louder than she intended it to be. "I was the only one to make it out of Caz Hall alive and all I could smell was that smoke and that…that fire and I just don't like seeing buildings burn, alright?" She turned away, forcefully sifting through the pack for lack of anything else to do, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked her body. "I'm afraid of burning buildings…of fires like that…" _Add that to the endless list of things you're afraid of._

Hal's hand found purchase on her shoulder, offering her a reassuring squeeze. "It's perfectly normal to be scared of that. That was some pretty scary shit you had to go through and I don't blame you…"

_And yet, he's not afraid of anything like that…_

"And I'm sorry," Hal apologized again. "I-I shouldn't have set the building on fire like that. I was just…I was pissed at _them_. At everything _they're _doing to us and I completely lost it…"

_Why's he sorry? He's justified—they killed his mother, they took his brother and made him into their slave. They have his dad and…his _girlfriend. That thought startled her a bit. Suddenly she could only see Karen's judgmental blue eyes staring at her coldly, boring into her heart like a drill.

'_What are you doing hanging around my man? What kind of human being are you? You take advantage of his vulnerability? You take advantage of _my _situation?' _

"You're right," she breathed, though she wasn't sure if she was talking to Hal, to herself, or to Karen.

Hal looked at her questioningly and she decided she should at least play it off as if she were talking to him the whole time. "You were right to do what you did…They need to realize that they can't keep doing this to us without repercussions, right? I'm sure that your dad or Ben would've done the same thing…"

"No," Hal said sharply. "Well…maybe Ben. But Dad wouldn't have. I really, _really _should've tried to control myself back there."

_He's just a kid in all of this_. _Just like I am. _But the difference was, Hal had grown up infinitely more than she had. He was a man now. And she was left clinging to childish fantasies of an ideal world where she wouldn't ever have to personally harm anything. But Hal's rage served as a stark and tragic reminder that he was barely seventeen, still susceptible to things that ordinary seventeen-year-olds were susceptible to. Not that there were any ordinary seventeen-year-olds left in the world.

"Don't worry about it," she finally said, preferring to end the subject there and not dwell on it anymore. She yawned, the excitement finally giving way to exhaustion.

Hal shivered a bit.

"Oh," she said softly, moving to remove her jacket. "I…I grabbed some extra clothes for you but that skitter sort of surprised me. Here…"

He held a hand up to stop her. "Keep it," he said. "It's nothing."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Hal, it's kind of cold in here."

"Which is why _you _should keep the coat. If you're so worried about me then why not lie down over here?" A mischievous smirk crossed his face. "You know…share body heat?"

She nodded, a little bit dumbfounded. But the warmth Hal afforded her was more than enough incentive.

They must have lain there for at least a half hour, both trying to sleep but both too charged to actually be able to drift off. At some point she removed the jacket anyway, feeling much warmer now. "Lourdes?" Hal broke the silence and she rolled over to face him on the barn floor. Her eyes were questioning. "What…what was it like for you…before the invasion, I mean."

_Was this some sort of bonding session? _She frowned at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

Hal had to ponder that one a moment. "Like…what do you miss?"

"My family, my friends, my roommates…"

"Besides all that," Hal leaned back, stared at the rafters. "Don't you ever just…just sit and think and _wish _for something?"

_Yeah. All the time. I miss my phone, my laptop, my car. Normal food, routines, schedules…_ "Lots of things, really. I just…I miss being able to go out and hang out with my friends. We used to go into Boston and eat at these really, _really _bad cafes and then just wander and listen to street performers…" It was a dreamy voice that overtook her tone now. "What do you miss the most?" she asked him.

"My mom," Hal stated quietly.

"Besides all that," she mimicked, if only to try to stay away from the sadness just below the surface.

"You'd think it's lame…"

"I told you mine," she reminded him.

"My lacrosse sticks," he finally said sheepishly. She stifled a laugh. "No, seriously! They…they weren't cheap. I used to go out into our backyard and practice after school, even during the fall or the winter when lacrosse wasn't in season. I guess what I really miss is…just being able to play lacrosse…"

But that wasn't it. And they both knew it. What they both _really _missed was the same thing: freedom. Freedom to wander the streets of Boston or play lacrosse. She routinely prayed for things to return to normal, though, for her to regain that freedom. "One day," she finally said, facing him, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he'd had floating through his head. "One day you'll play lacrosse again."

Hal laughed. "There's a thought…we gotta get back to camp first, though."

And just like that the moment passed. Now they were no longer reminiscing, they had to actively formulate a plan—some way to get back to their friends.

"How are we gonna do that?" she asked earnestly.

"We'll figure it out," he promised the same thing he'd been promising all along. But they'd made it this far. Why should she doubt him now? They _would _figure it out. "But rest is important and neither of us have slept in a while."

And there, curled up in Hal Mason's arms, she let sleep claim her. Her dreams were of simpler days, with jazz music playing off Boston corners and her friends laughing and sipping Starbucks out of Styrofoam cups. They were beautiful dreams. And it had been _so _long since she'd had beautiful dreams…

* * *

**A/N: I think two more chapters max? This may break your hearts but ultimately things aren't gonna stay rosy forever. Anyway, how was this chapter? The more I consider Lourdes, the more I really think she needs a back story. So I'm writing it myself! Let me know how you like it. Hal and Lourdes have definitely forged a strong bond here…but as I mentioned peachy times don't last forever and there needs to be **_**some **_**lead-up to a sequel. So expect angst and anger and some action in the final two chapters. Fair warning to all. Also: sequel titles are still open to debate. Let's hear which ones you like! **

**PS: Comments on Lourdes feeling a bit scared of Hal now? Like it? Don't like it? Is it **_**logical **_**is my main question…**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Alright, I know I said 2 more chapters but I lied. This is it, sadly, until the sequel comes about. As I said, it's time to introduce these other elements of angst and conflict that will set the stage for the sequel. Please don't flame me for not getting these two into a lovey-dovey relationship as of now. With that said, please drop a review. I've picked out a random title for my sequel since the camps were so divided on names. I won't reveal which I've chosen but I'll say this much: if you're familiar with Ed Sheeran's music then you should know ;) Please review once you're done! **

**PS: Once again, a HUGE thank you to all my great readers out there—the ones who sign reviews, leave them anonymously, or just read. It means so much to me that you all pay such attention to my work and if I could send you each a personal thank you, I would!**

* * *

It was nightfall when Hal awoke, Lourdes asleep beside him on her stomach, her dark hair fanning out around her in a manner that reminded him very much of a halo. He sighed heavily as he sat up. There was a slight pain in his temple, much duller than it had been when the wound was actually open, but present nonetheless. But it was a good kind of pain, the one that reminded him he was still alive, still breathing, still fighting.

_What's next, Hal? _Find a way out of this mess, get the two of them back to camp, and continue in this great struggle for survival. But he knew that wasn't what the question meant. _What's next for you and Lourdes? _This was the trickier question, the one that he lost sleep over. What _was _next for him and Lourdes? What would come once they made it back to camp? Would she still feel the same way? Would _he _still feel the same way?

It was easy enough to forget everything out here, away from everyone else. For these few short days, he'd been able to let go, reminisce, and almost relive some of the pre-invasion days. It was easy enough to forget what happened. It was easy enough to forget _Karen_.

Karen Nadler was and always would be Hal Mason's first love, of this he was certain. And just four days ago, if anyone had asked, he would have said he still loved her. But now, after all he'd been through, after witnessing Lourdes' capacity to love, to fight, to protect—he suddenly wasn't so sure. Perhaps if it had been a clean break, he wouldn't have been so conflicted.

But it hadn't been a clean break. Karen had been taken because he failed to protect her. She was harnessed because he couldn't protect her. And wasn't that the story of his life? His mom had died and he wasn't there to protect her. Ben had been taken, harnessed, _enslaved_ and he couldn't protect him either. And those who weren't taken or killed had something taken from them. Matt lost his childhood, his dad lost his wife and a son. _What would Lourdes lose that he couldn't protect her from? _

He was powerless. The thought hit him quickly, without warning. _Powerless_. Really, what could he do? Kill a few skitters? More would just show up. Shoot down a beamer? Five more were ready to take its place. Save a few civilians? If he even managed to do that, dozens more would die. And if Lourdes were to find herself in danger, would he be able to save her? It had been pure, dumb luck that he'd shown up on that porch in time last night. And if he'd learned anything from this invasion, it was that pure, dumb luck shouldn't be relied upon. Not with their odds. And he couldn't live with himself if something happened to yet _another _person that he cared about.

_That he cared about…_It was, perhaps, the first time that he acknowledged to himself that he sincerely cared for Lourdes. These past four days had shown him how valuable her companionship was, how he couldn't bear to lose it, lose _her_.

And even worse, he'd lost it back there in that house. He had beaten that skitter within an inch of its life, set the whole damn house on _fire_ out of blind rage. He didn't even know what he'd done until afterwards, when he could inspect the damage. He'd seen red throughout the duration of the events. And now Lourdes was scared. Scared of _him_. _You're no good for her, Hal. You'll only endanger her. You're too reckless, out-of-control. _

He felt weighed down now, a slow, sad feeling building in the pit of his stomach. Because he was right. If anything, he was a detriment to Lourdes. She deserved better. She deserved to be happy, free of worry. He would only have the opposite effect on her. He would only endanger her, give her reason to fear, reason to worry. And he _cared _about her too much to let that happen. So now came the hard part—to break away from her. _If you love something, set it free…_

* * *

Lourdes awoke and rolled over, observed Hal for a long moment as he sat, obviously deep in thought. She wondered what he must be thinking about. _His family, probably. His brothers, his dad…the people _you _pulled him away from, Lourdes. _Guilt hit her for the umpteenth time since their ordeal began. He should have been back at camp, watching out for Matt, ensuring no one hassled Ben for the spikes on his back. Ben, especially, needed Hal, even if neither Mason brother would admit it. Instead, Hal was here, looking after a scared little girl who was probably just a nuisance to him anyway. _You've never been anything else to him but a bother. _

Finally, Hal noticed her brown eyes fixed on him.

"What were you thinking about?" she summoned the courage to ask. He seemed taken aback by the question.

"N-nothing," he said quickly. "Just…stuff…"

"Stuff…" she repeated, looking back to the ground of the barn. "So did you figure out a way out of here?" she changed the subject.

"Well if we could find two more tires, we could get that El Camino back up and running…the only other thing I could think of is to wait for your leg to heal up more and try to walk it back to camp…"

She thought a moment. _If only her leg could heal—she was no doubt a nuisance to him at this point. _"I guess we'll have to wait it out then. Or maybe we could salvage the tires off a car on the roadway?"

Hal considered it. "Maybe. But there's no way we could do it tonight—I'm sure the skitters are around looking for whoever busted up their buddy." The tone of regret was completely undisguised from his voice.

She didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. "I…guess we should just wait then. Should we eat?" Lourdes glanced to the wheelbarrow in the corner, still stacked with provisions. "I mean…we can't light a fire or anything but I'm sure I could figure something out…"

Hal shrugged. "I guess…don't strain yourself. Just…pick something that's fine on its own and doesn't need heating up."

"O…kay…" She rose slowly, moved to the lantern hanging on the door and relit it before heading to the wheelbarrow. She took two cans of corn and brought them back, letting Hal cut the lids open with his knife.

Their shadows flickered across the floor in the dim light of the lantern. "Thanks," she said softly. "For everything. I wouldn't have made it these past few days without you."

Hal looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Yeah…don't mention it."

The rest of the meager meal was eaten in silence. She felt like she should say something, _anything_. But she couldn't muster up the courage to speak. The air had changed between them. It was immediately perceptible to her. Hal was being _cold_. _He probably misses camp, his family, Karen. How could I have been so stupid as to think that this would change anything between us? I'm still just the same, scared, meek girl. _

The knocking on the door was sudden, jolting both of them from their thoughts. Hal was up in seconds, the gun already in his hand. He signaled for Lourdes to duck behind the El Camino and she fled, leaping behind the vehicle and peeking out from behind its chrome bumper. _Like the coward you are_.

* * *

Slowly, Hal slid the door back, pointed the gun outside first. "Who's there?"

The voice that replied was shockingly familiar—high, delicate, a little cold sounding. "Hal?" He immediately recognized it as Maggie's.

"Maggie?" he was astonished but so, _so _glad to hear the familiar voice.

"Oh my God, you're alive!" came her response. He slid the door back more now, revealing the blonde woman.

"How did you find us here?"

"Us?" she questioned, looking around the barn expectantly.

Hal motioned for Lourdes to come out and she complied, offering a shy wave and ducking her head.

"Me and Lourdes—we've been holed up out here for the past few days. Kicked a couple of skitter asses. Both of us." His voice had a note of pride in it, slipping out though he tried to disguise it. _Stop it! _

Maggie nodded, looking at Lourdes somewhat indifferently before turning back to Hal. "I was out foraging for supplies, spotted smoke and thought I'd check it out. You're lucky: I was about to leave when I saw the barn and thought I should take a look. Heard you moving around inside."

"We uncovered a mess of supplies up at that burnt out house. You know, before I burnt it out," Hal told her. "Plenty to bring back to camp if we had some way of rigging up this truck to run. It's missing its two back tires…"

Maggie pondered a moment. "There's a pretty late-model truck abandoned less than a quarter mile from here. Passed it on the way in. I think the tires might fit…"

Hal nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Maybe." He turned to Lourdes now. "Wait here? We'll be back soon." Lourdes nodded and the two left her there, in the building.

* * *

She heard the motorcycle start and roar off back towards the main road. An unsettling feeling fell over her. _That's it. _It was all over so quick. One minute they'd been planning, still unsure of their future and the next, some stroke of luck had sent Margaret straight to their doorstep. _Or maybe it was Providence. _

She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at how easily Hal forgot everything that had happened between them. _But what did you expect? The first kiss was out of sympathy, the second because he was just so anxious…they meant nothing and you should've known that from the beginning. _

But nothing could change the effect Hal Mason had over her. No matter what they were to one another, he would always be this shepherd-like figure to her: protective, watchful. And she was more like a sheep: meek, timid, vulnerable.

It was a long, lonely half hour before Hal and Margaret returned, two tires being dragged behind the motorcycle by fallen telephone wires. Hal excitedly affixed them to the El Camino, letting out a whoop of joy and high-fiving Maggie when they fit almost perfectly.

_That's the kind of girl Hal needs. Someone who's tough and brave. Someone who can watch out for him like he watches out for you. Hal needs a strong woman. And you aren't strong…_

* * *

The ride back to camp was fairly painless with him driving and Lourdes in the passenger seat. He was grateful she didn't say anything on the trip back. Any conversation would just make it harder for him. Maggie had explained that the skitters hadn't been present in nearly a day. _Figures. You probably scared them off when you beat the shit out of that red-eyed one. But they'll be back. And they'll probably want revenge on you. _One more reason why he couldn't afford to be around Lourdes.

The El Camino rattled as it hit each pothole and bump in the road, the supplies in its bed shaking from side to side. But the provisions were plentiful and would last the camp for days. It was surreal. After four days with only Lourdes, the thought of going back to camp was both inviting and daunting. For four days he had forgotten and now he would be forced to remember all over again.

The 2nd Mass greeted the group with elation, with the exception of Pope who Hal noticed glaring peevishly at him until Maggie shot him a dirty look. As he disembarked from the driver's seat of the truck, he searched the crowd for his dad, disheartened when he wasn't present though he did notice Ben and Matt weaving through the throng of people, trying to reach him.

"Your dad hasn't made it back yet," Maggie said, reading his mind. "But we haven't stopped looking, Hal."

"Thanks," he murmured in reply, crossing to the other side of the El Camino and helping Lourdes out of the truck on her one good leg.

"So I guess this is it," he said to her. She looked to him, a mixture of gratitude and sadness flashing across her face. Suddenly, he didn't want to part with her, didn't want to let her out of his sight even if they were in the same camp. He just wanted her _near_ him. But he couldn't. He couldn't afford to put her at risk like that. Not after what had happened to his mom, to Ben, to Karen. Not after what he'd done to that skitter the previous night. It was too dangerous. _He _was too dangerous. So he just watched as Lourdes smiled wanly and turned, walking away slowly. He had to let her go. But somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just let the greatest thing in his life…walk away…

* * *

**A/N: That's it. The end. Sorry for all of ye happy story lovers. Good news is, there is a sequel in the works. Bad news is, Hal and Lourdes remain apart until then. As you can see it's been brought into line with the 2****nd**** season now—opening up the possibility for Jamil/Lourdes and Hal/Maggie, even though I don't like either of those couples. In any event, I'm aware that the resolution may have been a bit weak but I wanted to plant Maggie into Hal's mind a bit, too. So I hope you enjoyed and will follow me once the sequel is up, too. I'll let you all know via Twitter (at EbiPers). Thanks so much for reading these eleven chapters and for reviewing them—it was a beautiful way to transition into this fan forum and I appreciate the warm welcome. This story is dedicated to all of you lovely readers! **

**PS—If you guys ever write a Hal/Lourdes fic or **_**any **_**Falling Skies fic for that matter and would like me to check it out, just say the word. I won't regard you as spammers don't worry! **

**And for those into the whole 'story playlist' thing, here's mine for this story:**

**-Brave by Nichole Nordeman**

**-Keep Holding On by Avril Lavigne**

**-I'm With You by Avril Lavigne**

**-Payphone by Maroon 5 featuring Wiz Khalifa **

**-Skyscraper by Demi Lovato**

**-Princess of China by Coldplay featuring Rihanna**

**-The A Team by Ed Sheeran**

**-Bird's Song by Ingrid Michaelson **

**-Don't Forget by Demi Lovato **

**So that's it for this story! Peace and love to you all and the sequel will be up shortly! What do you say? One more review on your way out?**


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